


Enraged

by Vixen13



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha!Wade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, D/s elements, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Peter has anger issues omg, Praise Kink, Prostitute!Peter, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexism, Sounding, Switching, Violence, canon sorta, consensual humiliation kink, in the past and upcoming in the fic, inaccurate depiction of the sex industry, omega!Peter, with lots of changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 81,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/pseuds/Vixen13
Summary: Peter was a brilliant omega who dreamed of overcoming the stigmas and setbacks of his gender. When a spider bite gave him powers and his dying uncle left him with powerful words, he saw an opportunity to protect the little guy from all the bad in the world.But life isn't like a comic book. Not for omegas, at least. By the time life was done with Peter, he was working in a brothel, just trying to make enough money to keep his and Aunt May's heads above water.Enter one Merc with a Mouth who won't stop poking his way into Peter's pants and into Peter's past. Wade has an offer waiting for a super that isn't supering, and Peter might just be bitter enough to take it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dark_karen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_karen/gifts).



> Notes for my take on a/b/o:  
> \- Sex: male, female, intersex  
> \- Gender: alpha, beta, omega (see below 1)  
> \- Unless a person has a sex that offers them a functional uterus and ovaries, there will be no babies growing.  
> \- You can't smell pheromones (see below 2)  
> \- Sexism: I use this word in the fic because I lacked a better word, but I'm using it more to refer to abo gender than I am to abo sex.  
> \- Safe Sex: I actually have a really long an convoluted explanation of sexual health practices in this abo world, but I won't get into it (for now, at least). You won't be seeing condoms or hearing talk about STDs or STIs. Irl, this is BAD. Please use a condom and get tested, kids. Kthx.
> 
> 1) The reason I’m differentiating sex and gender is because my headcanon is that an abo world would be more focused on gender (alpha/beta/omega) and the assumed attributes of what those would mean for a person. In example, alphas are “dominant and strong”, but omegas are “weak and submissive”. These attributes may not be true for individuals, but it’s an assumed social norm, and gender imbalances are caused by those beliefs.
> 
> 2a) You don’t technically smell pheromones. Humans react to only a few kinds of pheromones, but we typically can ignore them. Animals are more sensitive to a wider range, insects even more. I know a lot of a/b/o describes the smell of pheromones, but that always bugged me. Even in an a/b/o world where people are as responsive and aware of pheromones as they are, they still wouldn’t have a smell. You would only smell the person or what they were wearing.
> 
> 2b) When you smell a pheromone, you react to it. The only way you know which kind of pheromone you are smelling is by your body’s immediate reaction to it. That would be natural in an a/b/o world, since they would be learning why their bodies reacted in certain ways from birth. So I’ll be writing with that in mind throughout the chapters.
> 
> Peter's past will be revealed slowly throughout the fic. Everything else in the world will mostly follow canon, except for the impactful factor of Spider-man not being in that canon for very long.
> 
> The character Alex was picked at random from Spideyverse, as I needed a strong female character. I know nothing about her other than:  
> Alex (Earth-8351) As featured in 2008’s What If? Spider-Man vs. Wolverine one-shot, Alex is an assassin and sister to Wolverine’s friend Charlemagne. 
> 
> Okay! Let's get started.

“You know my rules,” Alex said, her arms crossed as she stared down the alpha. He was still favoring one arm and working his jaw around, but really, he could have been worse off.

They were collected in Momma Alex’s office. She was dressed for the job in a tightly cut suit that showed off her slim features. She chose dark coloring to make her bright blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stand out. Her hair was cut short and sharp, making her look strong and professional. Peter knew she carried a gun at all times at the small of her back, just in case.

“It’s not like I meant to! I was lost in the moment! There was no reason for him to—”

“He had every reason,” Alex snapped. “You’re on the ban list of no less that eight brothels in New York because you can’t keep you teeth out of omega flesh.”

The John growled, displeased with being lectured. Likely, he wasn’t used to it. Alphas tended to be spoiled. “I don’t see what the big damn deal is! It’s not like they’re gonna mate bond with anyone! What’s a little bite gonna do?”

“You’re banned for six months.”

The John scoffed and threw Alex and Peter the finger, shouting a few choice words on his way out. “Fucking uppity wannabe alpha bitches!”

People didn’t particularly like female alphas, but Alex was used to such comments. They didn’t really affect her anymore, or at least, not where it showed. She just seemed exhausted as she sighed and slumped against the wall of her office. Peter rolled his eyes from where he was seated on the loveseat, taking another swig from his water bottle.

“Will you have a mark?”

“Nah.” Peter rubbed his neck over the spot where the alpha had nearly broken the skin. “I was ready for it, so I got my thumb in his mouth in time. He was easy to flip across the room after that. Pretty sure he disliked that part more.”

Alex let out a huff of a laugh. “I bet.”

“Peter-Peter-Peter, I’m so sorry!” Adam scurried into the room, arms hugged tight around himself, eyes filling up with tears. “I’m so so so so sorry! That was my John and I made you deal with it and—”

“Don’t worry about it, Adam,” Peter soothed. “I still got paid and he can’t even come back here for a while. Win-win, right?”

Adam sniffled and looked no less guilty. “I’m sorry I’m so useless,” he muttered miserably.

It squeezed Peter’s heart to hear that. Frankly, it was normal to hear male omegas say that about themselves, considering they were told that all their lives. That didn’t mean Peter liked it. Besides, most male omegas were smaller framed and given little in the way of options to bulk up or learn self defence. The only person in Momma Alex’s brothel that had an advantage over alphas, was Peter.

Had Adam taken that John, he would have been marked with a bite and roughed up a little. Perhaps that didn’t seem so scary in the short term, and most alphas thought that way, which was why they didn’t care to control themselves. However, alphas in rut _hate_ seeing another alpha’s bite on an omega. It was dangerous to show off once in the middle of things and would likely mean being passed up in the first place. A bite severely limited earning potential until it healed.

Assuming it didn’t scar and leave the omega struggling for work forever more.

But alphas didn’t care about that. They looked down on omegas that entered into the sex industry, even though it was _their_ rules that created a world where male omegas had little choice but to do so.

Not to mention, bites in places where bond marks were supposed to go was rude in general, if the alpha didn’t intend to keep the omega. Lots of alphas lost themselves in their ruts, becoming possessive, and would decide they wanted to keep the omega they were currently fucking for life. However, once the arousal addled state was over, the alpha could walk away, but the omega was ruined.

“Don’t ever be afraid to ask me for help, okay?” Peter smiled. “Really. I don’t mind.”

That was a lie. He did mind. Peter hated his job and he hated it more that he had to take on the worst of the worst every time he had a client. However, the thought of any of the other omegas ending up with one of those asshole alphas that just wanted to hurt them, all because Peter _didn’t feel like it_ that day… That was unacceptable.

As an omega, Peter couldn’t do much to help people or make the world a better place, powers or no powers, but he _could_ protect the world he lived in.

“You’re so nice,” Adam blubbered and then broke down crying. Peter sighed. Adam was a sensitive soul.

He was also a romantic, still hoping for a Disney prince to carry him away from this world of harsh reality. Peter always felt the urge to yell at Adam to be more realistic, to toughen up, but really, he couldn’t take away from someone the one thing that kept them going. So Peter would just awkwardly keep his silence.

“Alright! Out you go!” Alex walked forward to usher Adam out. “I’m gonna do a check-up on Peter. Jason! Hey! Come over here and take care of Adam!”

“Yes, Momma!” Jason’s voice called from somewhere in the hallway.

Alex shut the door at last with a long sigh. She walked over and plopped down on the loveseat beside Peter. She gave his water bottle the side eye. “Sure you don’t want something stronger?”

Peter shrugged. “Wasted on me.”

“A blessing and a curse.”

“Yeah…”

Some of the larger brothels had at least one mutant to take the bad or suspicious clients when there was a need. Peter was the first omega that Alex hired to be able to take that job, and it had been entirely accidental at first. Peter’s powers had come to light later. Still, she was _very_ grateful for his help, and Peter got a larger cut than the other omegas did, though he made sure not to tell them that.

“Listen, Pete, if you need a break, I can give you an easy client.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be nice.” Peter tipped the bottle back, draining the rest of it. “Whenever we have a day where I don’t have to grab one of the brutes.”

“Yeah…”

They both knew it wouldn’t happen. Male omegas were uncommon enough as it was. Finding one that was capable of defending themselves _and_ willing to work in the sex industry was a near impossible task. However, finding an alpha that didn’t like to obey the rules was all too common.

Though perhaps “willing to work” wasn’t the right term. Most of those that ended up in the industry were like Peter — bitter and resigned to the only job they were capable of getting. Alex was a good Momma and treated her boys right. She would never force any of them to do something they truly hated or were afraid of. She fretted over Peter constantly, but Peter always brushed it aside. He could handle your average rut-crazed alpha. The others couldn’t.

“I’m gonna hit the showers,” Peter said. “I can still smell him on me.”

“You sticking around for the late shift?”

“Of course. I need the money.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

Peter waved it off as he headed out the door of the office. It was going to be another long night. Resentment crawled up his throat, but he swallowed it back down. No reason to get upset about it. Nothing would change even if he did. Instead, he did what he always did to calm down. He thought of all the other people stuck in this job with him, and how, without his help, they would be beaten, bleeding, and scarred with a mark that meant nothing.

 

~*~

 

Peter woke to the sound of murmuring voices coming from downstairs. It sounded like the neighbor was over once more, talking to Aunt May. He could hear them. At no point in his life prior to getting bitten had he been able to so clearly hear a discussion happening on the first floor from his bedroom. But now, there he was, super powered or whatever.

At first, it had been a real pain. He could hardly handle the volume his new daily life had. It had been difficult to sleep through. He had invested in earplugs just to make it through the night. Over time, he became inured to it. Now it hardly bothered him. The only time it tended to wake him up was if something crashed or broke in the house, or he heard his name.

That last thought made his sleep dazed mind tune into the conversation. The neighbor was bad about gossip.

“I’m worried about him, May. He’s out at all hours of the night, and selling pictures to a newspaper just doesn’t bring in that kind of money. They screw over anyone they can, more so omegas who are desperate for whatever they can earn.”

“He has a lot of odd jobs he’s taken on. He’s the kind of person to find a way to make things work.” Aunt May’s voice was so trusting…

“That’s exactly what has me worried! He feels so strongly about taking care of the house after Ben’s death. Like it’s all his responsibility, especially since you had to cut back on your hours. I don’t want him thinking there is only one option to turn to.”

“You’re going to give yourself an ulcer, fretting like that. Peter keeps me updated on his jobs, and he knows better than to get involved in such risky things. Everything is fine.” There was a thread of tension in Aunt May’s voice that she was trying hard to cover up.

Peter sighed and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He never wanted to worry Aunt May, and he most certainly didn’t want her knowing that he sold his body for money. It made the secrets he kept from her during his teenage years seem childish…

“It’s such a shame he lost that scholarship. I was so sure he’d be a college boy right now. Top of his class!”

“Oh, Anna… Don’t bring that up to him. He’s still upset—”

Peter shoved a pillow over his head and hummed. He didn’t want to hear them talk about all the things he had lost. He didn’t need to be reminded of how he’d been blocked from trying to make a better life for himself. The bitter anger of it still boiled in his gut, even after all these years. One would think that Peter would have been able to let it go by now.

After all, that day… something irreparable had broken inside of Peter. Something that had been cracking since the day Uncle Ben had died.

Peter had kind of hoped that he would stop having emotions after that so he no longer had to suffer. If only it worked like that.

Determining that he wasn’t going to get any more sleep, Peter decided to go take a shower and brush his teeth. At least the noise of the water would drown out the conversation and notify the women that he was awake. It should make them change subjects, at least.

By the time Peter made it downstairs, the neighbor was gone, and it was just Aunt May in the kitchen making Peter something to eat. He had told her a thousand times that he didn’t need her mothering him like that anymore, but she seemed to find it comforting, so he did his best to let it go.

He dropped a kiss on her cheek as he made his way to the fridge to pull out some juice. “Mornin’!”

“Good _afternoon_ ,” Aunt May pointed out. “Late night again?”

“Yeah, somebody’s gotta take the night shift secret shopper jobs.”

“Does that really pay all that much?” Ah, so she _was_ fishing for information. Damn nosey neighbors making Aunt May worried.

“Every little bit helps! Besides, it’s a valiant job, making sure omegas are treated with the same amount of respect as other customers. I take pride in knowing I helped three people so far get fired.”

Peter grinned and dodged as Aunt May swatted at him for the comment, but she couldn’t stop the little smile from tugging at her lips. Truthfully, Peter _did_ do secret shopping work, if only to leave a paper trail that he could show Aunt May. The extra pocket money was nice, and he really did enjoy leaving scathing reviews against people that even so much as _insinuated_ something rude about his gender.

“And your job at the paper?” she asked as she sat a plate of food down for him. He eagerly tucked into it.

“Well…” Peter shrugged and swallowed his mouthful. “I wouldn’t call occasionally selling a picture to them a job, but I guess it’s fine. I just wish the heroes would stop flying so high up. Harder to focus the lens.”

“I worry about you being in the middle of those fights.”

“Nah, it’s perfectly safe. I have a very nice zoom function. I stay clear of the rubble.”

Peter, for a while, had also taken photos of heroes and villains as they fought. He didn’t stop because the money was shit, though it was, but because watching them night after night had started to hurt. It left a sour taste in his mouth and a heavy feeling of loss. They were something he could never be.

Not to mention, every time he saw Iron Man, his chest would clench so tight it was hard to breathe. He’d start thinking about that night. The night he had been losing that battle. The night that his suit ripped open and the smell of—

Peter clenched his jaw and forced the thoughts out of his head. Now wasn’t the time to obsess over that. He had a few secret shopper places to hit before he checked in at Momma Alex’s.

“I’m heading out early today. I get to do a checklist for movie trailers and credits, which means free movie for me.” Peter gave Aunt May a thumbs up.

She smiled in return. “I do hope you don’t get stuck in another B rated girl’s night out movie.”

“Those aren’t nearly as bad as being forced to watch another Adam Sandler flop.”

“The price of hard work.”

Peter laughed. Aunt May always managed to find a way to make him smile at least once during the day. He didn’t know what he would have done if she weren’t a part of his life.

“Are you going in tonight?” Peter asked.

“I’m on call, but they won’t bother unless it gets too busy.” After Uncle Ben’s death, Aunt May had started working at the hospital again as a nurse. It didn’t take long before she overworked herself. She couldn’t afford to quit, so out of kindness, they kept her on part time.

Still, every year she found it more and more difficult to keep up. They started cutting more of her hours and setting her up as the on-call nurse for emergencies. Thankfully, by the time that happened, Peter had cut his new deal with Alex and made more money. It meant Peter would likely never move out of Aunt May’s house to live his own life, but the situation could be much worse. At least they had cable, internet, and could always afford the power bill.

That was more than most male omegas could boast about. Not that female omegas had it much better. They only had good lives if they agreed to bind themselves to an alpha’s home — staying barefoot and pregnant. Peter didn’t quite know which scenario would be worse.

“Peter… If there’s ever anything you need to talk about, let me know, okay? We can always figure something out together.”

Guilt rushed through Peter, but he pushed it aside because she was wrong. There wasn’t always a good solution. There wasn’t always a way to make it work. That part was obvious by now.

Peter forced a smile to his face. “Of course, Aunt May.”

A few hours later, Peter was making his way to the theater. He had on tight jeans and a form fitting shirt, with a well cut jacket draped on top. He wasn’t necessarily showing off, but he knew how to turn a casual outfit like the one he had on into something that sold sex. In his line of work, you were always looking for potential clients to advertise to.

Unfortunately, cat callers on the street were not one of them.

“Hey, pretty baby! What’s a fine young thing like you doin’ walkin’ on your own? Ain’t got no alpha lockin’ you up at home?”

“I’m just taking a walk.” Peter kept going, but the man — a beta that looked like he had little money to his name and thus Peter didn’t have time to waste on him — started following, a group of his friends trailing after.

“Ya know, that perky ass is _wasted_ on some entitled brat of an alpha. Why don’t you hit me up sometime? I’ll treat you right.”

Peter smirked. He loved it when others did the alpha bashing for him. “That’s alright. I’ll treat myself right, thanks.”

“Ohhh! Omega makin’ a name for himself. I can respect that.” He laughed and his friends followed suit. They sounded like they thought it was cute that Peter was trying to do it all on his own and would eventually grow out of that when his “omega urges” made him want to play Suzie Homemaker.

Not that Peter would have many options for that. Alphas were supposed to find an omega and have kids. Omegas were supposed to stay home and take care of the kids. Except, there was no reason that a beta couldn’t be in a relationship with an omega _or_ an alpha. There was nothing stopping an alpha or beta from taking an omega mate that couldn’t bear children. Nothing, except for societal standards.

Alphas were always in a competition for who was best. For who could be at the top of the food chain. Breaking the mold meant suffering heavy ridicule, and most alphas couldn’t take such a hit to their pride. However, it seemed perfectly fine to them for an omega to give up _their_ pride completely, along with all their other rights in deference of the alpha that _graced_ them with a bond mark.

Peter hated how the world worked, the life he was born into, and his inability to escape from it. What had been the point of the omega rights movement, if, in the end, so little had changed?

“How ‘bout you let me take you to dinner and we can talk!” the beta persisted.

“I have a job to get to,” Peter brushed off.

“A job! Makin’ the big bucks! I guess the omega’s takin’ _me_ out to dinner now!” His friends laughed.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Has this line of approach ever really worked for you?”

“Hey! I’m just tryin’ ta compliment your hard workin’ and _fine_ ass.”

“Mmhmm…”

“Baby, don’t be sexist! Give a beta a chance.”

A black car pulled up along the side of the road Peter was walking along. Men in suits immediately exited the car, standing at attention and eyeing their surroundings. Peter’s harassers stopped in their tracks and gaped at the men.

“Oh, shit! It’s the feds! Run!” They scrambled and Peter had to stifle a laugh.

Out of the car stepped none other than Harry Osborn. Peter grinned wide and ran over to hug his best friend, receiving a tight grip and a few slaps on the back in return. They both pulled back with smiles, but Harry’s was small and exhausted looking. Deep bruises sat under his eyes.

“You look tired,” Peter pointed out the obvious.

“Thanks.” Harry chuckled. “The company’s been running me ragged. I’m actually on my way to a meeting, but I saw you on the sidewalk and couldn’t help stopping to say hi.”

“You couldn’t just send me a text?” Peter raised an eyebrow, challenging Harry to say it was because he was being overprotective when he saw the people following Peter.

“I haven’t had a single chance to get away, so why pass up the opportunity?” Harry grinned and they both knew he wasn’t going to say it. Peter let it go.

“Well, you rarely text me these days as it is. You should try a little harder.”

“Ha! I will. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Peter smirked before he sobered a little. “How’s your dad?”

Harry looked away, his face troubled. “Not good.”

“I’m sorry.”

The knowledge that it was a genetic disease hung between them. The sicker Norman become, the more Harry got a glimpse into his future. Peter had honestly thought he was going to become a scientist, go into the field of genetics, work alongside _the_ Dr. Connors. Peter had dreamed of finding a cure for Harry and his dad.

But life liked to shit on dreams, along with all those he cared about.

“Sir.” One of Harry’s men stepped forward and gave a slight nod.

Harry’s shoulders drooped as he let out a long sigh. “Sorry, Pete. I gotta go.”

“It’s fine. It was good to see you!”

Harry tried for another smile, weak as it was. “It was good to see you, too…” There was a long pause as Harry studied Peter. “Hey, listen… If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask me, okay?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Harry. I don’t need to be an Oscorp charity case.”

“You know I don’t mean it like that!”

“I know.” Peter waved away Harry’s concern. “I’m doing well on my own. Promise.” And the last thing Peter wanted was to become yet another burden on Harry’s already full plate.

“Sir.”

“Yes, yes.” Harry gave Peter one last stern look. “But promise me if you’re ever in trouble, you’ll call me before you make a bad decision.”

“Okay, mom.” Peter laughed as Harry rolled his eyes. They waved one last time before Harry was tucked away inside the car and driving off. Peter watched the car drive out of sight for a long moment before he turned around to head towards the theater once more.

As much as Peter loved seeing Harry, it always made him feel terrible afterwards. They had been such good friends in the past, but growing up had come with hard lessons for the both of them. When Harry started distancing himself, Peter selfishly let him. It was easier to have space between them than it was for Peter to face day after day all the things he couldn’t do to help Harry.

 _“Helpless, useless omega,”_ a voice of his past echoed around inside Peter’s head, taunting him once more. _“Can’t even take care of himself, and he wants to save others?”_

Peter shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and focused on the cement under his feet. His strange powers, his broad intellect, his overwhelming desire to help — they were useless. He couldn’t even get the education needed to help his best friend. In the end, the only thing that mattered was that he was an omega, and he could never be anything more than that.

_“Helpless, useless omega.”_

 

~*~

 

Peter was in the backroom of Momma Alex’s eating, a large chemistry book open in front of him. He had a collection of books and science journals that he liked to hoard and read in his free time. Though, to be honest, he could never justify to himself why he bothered. Even if he did learn more than the average college student, he would never have the documents to back up that education. He’d never be hired for a job based on a personal reading habit, especially as an omega.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from picking up any book that caught his eye. He had resigned himself to the habit being his own personal vice. Besides, the stuff he read was an all encompassing distraction. In the life he lived, such distractions were much needed.

Just as he was flipping a page, Jason suddenly burst into the room, wide eyed and wafting nervousness as he went. “Pete! Momma says you don’t have to take him, but he’s offering a lot of money.”

“Um…” Peter blinked as he dropped the chopsticks back inside the cardboard container. “Who?”

“Some… guy… He’s really weird. I don’t like him at all. I don’t care _how_ much money he has.”

That was a problem. Jason was careful, but there were others that were desperate for money and would make bad decisions when offered enough. Peter was happy to split it with them as long as they didn’t put themselves in unnecessary danger.

He stood up and hurried over to the sink to wash the smell of Chinese food off of him and swish with a quick dose of mouthwash. He ditched the robe and grabbed a shirt that was more holes than cloth before following Jason to the front. There was an entry room where Alex entertained the walk-in clients as they chose an omega for the night.

“He said he doesn’t have a preference as long as someone’s willing to fuck him. Doesn’t that sound suspicious?”

“It does,” Peter agreed.

“And he’s in a costume!”

“He’s in a what?”

Jason lowered his voice as they got closer, not wanting to be overheard and offend the clients. “You’ll see.”

Soon enough, Peter did see. What surprised him the most was not that there was a masked person still in full get-up in the brothel, but that is was _Deadpool_ in full get-up in the brothel. Peter had been chasing after superheroes since his teen years, to mimic or photograph, so he knew most of the villains as well. Deadpool was famous for his chaotic neutral standing, bordering on evil, since he would take almost any job requested of him.

Deadpool was looking around the place, hands propped on his hips, and one foot tapping at the floor. He didn’t look particularly agitated or demanding, just… easily distracted. He seemed particularly fascinated with the glittering crystal chandelier that threw bits of light across the deep blue walls. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked over at Jason and Peter, giving an appreciative whistle at the lean muscles peaking out from under Peter’s attire.

“Ceveo,” Alex greeted Peter with his working name. “Our client here is looking for a companion for the night. Is your schedule still open?”

It was. It always was. Peter didn’t have regulars, and rarely had any set appointments. He always took the walk-ins because there was usually a good reason they didn’t call first. Peter looked Deadpool up and down. It was obvious under his suit that he was built for fighting. Solid frame, hard muscles, long and flexible limbs. He was a killing machine.

A _rich_ killing machine, who could easily drop an obscene amount of money to get his way. Peter, for once, was in over his head. However, that meant that any other omega Deadpool came across was far worse. Peter couldn’t allow anyone to get hurt over his own personal reservations.

Peter cocked his hips, letting the tight shorts he had on ride even higher, showing a glimpse of the smooth, pale skin of his cheeks. A practiced sultry smile spread across his lips. One hand propped on his hip in a challenging way that always made alphas want to pin him down and fuck the sass out of him.

“Hello there, tall, dark, and dangerous.”

Deadpool was silent for a long while as he looked Peter over. The suit was hiding his smell and blocking most of his pheromones. Still, Peter could tell that lust poured off the man by how his own body was subconsciously reacting to it. Then, abruptly, Deadpool asked, “You really chose _Ceveo_ as your name?”

Peter blinked. Nobody had called him on that before. It was a lost word from a dead language. He’d picked it out of the bitterness of his position in life — a tongue-in-cheek joke. Of all the people to catch on, Peter had assumed Deadpool at the bottom of the list.

“What of it?” Peter’s voice held a little too much bite to, a little too much of his actual personality instead of the act he was supposed to portray for clients.

“Seems a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Is that amiss in my line of work?”

“Well, I mean, what happens when someone wants you on top?”

“I’ll let you know the day that comes up.” As if an alpha would request an omega to fuck them. Peter almost scoffed. “Are you asking?”

“And if I do?”

“I’ll be sure to make it the best night of your life.”

A grin stretched the fabric of Deadpool’s mask. “Oh yeah, you’ll do.”

Deadpool tossed a Crown Royal bag at Momma Alex. When she opened it, her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “We haven’t even negotiated a price,” she gently reminded.

“He can take what he feels it was worth after.” Deadpool shrugged, completely unaffected by the loss of so much money. “If he wants to take it all, that’s fine, too. I have some _crazy_ kinks, Baby Boy. You think you can keep up?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ve met worse.”

“I sure do love me a challenge.”

“No shame in keeping things to the basics on your first time, _alpha_ ,” Peter purred, leaning forward a little so he could tilt his back and show off the smoothness of his unmarked neck. “I’m here to _serve_ you, alpha. Whatever you desire.” The hand Peter had by his thigh moved, his fingertips lightly trailing over skin. The move did its job, drawing Deadpool’s attention to the goods.

A lot of alphas liked to one up any other alpha omegas might have had. That could get exhausting or painful if the kinks they settled on were not something they had much experience with. However, Momma Alex trained her boys well, showing them all the tricks of the trade to manipulate an alpha into keeping their eyes on the prize: a willing omega hole to sink their rut engorged dick into.

Thankfully, Deadpool seemed just as susceptible to such tactics, as he appeared to be salivating inside his mask, eyes locked on Peter’s slowly roaming fingers. Peter was secretly grateful. Perhaps things wouldn’t end up _too_ bad.

Alex turned to give Peter a private look that the mercenary couldn’t see. She was questioning whether it was safe for Peter to do this. As far as Peter was concerned, he didn’t have a choice. He gave a subtle nod before smirking at his new client, spinning on a toe in order to lead them out of the entry hall and up the stairs to his designated room.

He had picked the one on the top floor. The climb helped wear down some of the alphas’ antsiness, and he knew well what his ass looked like while climbing those steps. Deadpool followed after like a drooling cartoon character, practically floating up the stairs when Peter looked over his shoulder and crooked his finger. Thankfully, Deadpool didn’t look armed other than the belt of pouches around his waist. If things went wrong, Peter might have a decent chance to make it out the window and up onto the roof.

“Did you know you have an ass sent from the heavens?” Deadpool’s voice had a dreamy quality to it.

“Did you know it feels like heaven, too?”

“Keep that up, and I’ll end up fucking you right here on the stairs.”

“As to be expected of an alpha with so little self control.”

“Oooo, you’re gonna get it.”

Peter wasn’t sure why the dangerous mercenary’s oddly playful tone forced out so many biting remarks, but it did. Something about the man just triggered something in Peter, making him hum with a feeling he hadn’t had since the day he burned his makeshift suit. It was disconcerting, which in turn made him irrationally annoyed at Deadpool.

Perhaps goading an alphan _supervillain_ with a reputation for not holding back wasn’t the smartest thing Peter had ever done. However, Deadpool spouting quips in turn, instead of trying to squash Peter’s uppity omega attitude, was unprecedented, and the scientist in Peter wanted to see how far he could go before the inevitable alpha anger struck.

Before they could reach the top floor landing, hands slid around his waist and pulled them to a stop. Peter was pressed back against the leather of Deadpool’s suit and fear lanced through him. He wasn’t entirely sure how well he could fight against the mercenary in such an enclosed space. He couldn’t call for help because Alex would come and shoot Deadpool. Peter knew for a fact that Deadpool wouldn’t be stopped by a single bullet no matter how well placed.

And if Deadpool survived, how many in the brothel would die when he fell into bloodlust?

So, Peter sealed his lips shut and took a deep breath, trying not to let his shaking be noticeable. Deadpool pressed his face against the side of Peter’s neck and took a deep inhale. Peter let his head fall to the side, bearing his throat in submission, hoping it would keep the dangerous alpha calm.

“You’re agitated and afraid,” Deadpool quietly stated.

Peter just about stopped breathing. One could determine the emotions of others by the pheromones they put out, but it wasn’t like reading a book. Pheromones didn’t have a distinct smell, and they didn’t necessarily cause others to feel the same emotion. No, one had to be aware of their bodies to the point that they knew when a pheromone was affecting them, and then assess the reaction they were having to relate it to the emotion that caused it.

It was possible to read emotions based on pheromones, yes, but alphas rarely had the presence of mind to even try. It was considered a “nosy omega” trait to try and determine what others were feeling. Even though omegas were forced to learn how to do so in order to act appropriately around touchy alphas, so they didn’t insight anger in them.

Deadpool was just full of surprises.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Pool,” Peter replied carefully. “I do hope I can please you tonight.”

“Listen, Baby Boy. If you just lay on the bed all night, playing on your phone, and let me jack off onto you until my rut is over, I’d be happy.”

Oddly… it sounded truthful. How good of a liar _was_ Deadpool? Perhaps a great one, given his line of work. Peter couldn’t stop the annoyance that flared up in him. He didn’t like being coddled when they both knew the truth of the situation. If an alpha in rut wasn’t happy, it was the omega who suffered for it.

“You don’t believe me.”

“You offered a lot of money tonight.” Peter turned his head to the side, catching a glimpse of the white covering Deadpool’s eyes. “I want to do what I can to make sure you have a good experience. After all, isn’t that why you came to a professional?”

Peter pressed his hips back, grinding his ass onto Deadpool’s crotch. The man let out a low moan, his fingers tightening their grip. Peter purposefully let his chest rumble with a purr, knowing that the sound of contentment _did_ things to alphan instincts. Deadpool sucked in a sharp breath.

“How about we head up to my room?” Peter breathed.

“Lead the way, _Catcher_.” Deadpool was translating Peter’s working name into English slang.

Peter frowned, but started walking again, making sure his hips swayed just right as he climbed the stairs. Why the _hell_ did Deadpool know _Latin_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add this note, but everything that was cat called at Peter is almost verbatim what this one customer I had (when I worked at a Check Casher's) used to say to me. Every. Damn. Time. lol Like, he would cash a work check for $30 and then tell me how he'd take good care of me. XD


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, lovelies. Would you like some smut?

“In the suit?”

“Yes.”

“During your entire rut?

“I’ve spent a lot longer in worse conditions inside this suit. Me and it have become _one._ We’re bonded. Inseparable. Two of a kind—”

“And soaked through with sweat, I imagine.” Peter couldn’t help crinkling his nose. Having sex with someone in full body leather for the entire night sounded like an awful idea. Frankly, he was baffled how any alpha as close to rut as Deadpool was could stand the heat such restrictive clothing choices had.

“I feel like you would be more comfortable naked,” Peter tried again.

“ _Nobody_ is comfortable when I’m naked. _Believe_ me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my professional ethics?”

Deadpool placed a scandalized hand over his chest and gasped. “I would never!”

The smile was on Peter’s face before he could stop it. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be relaxing and joking around with an _alpha_ , especially an alpha who was a _client_. Most importantly, not with a dangerous mercenary.

Mentally shaking himself, he switched over into work mode. He slid one hand up under his shirt to caress his skin. The artfully placed rips showed teasing glimpses of his fingers as they trailed around. Deadpool’s eyes were locked onto the movement as if entranced. Peter let a sultry smile spread across his face and dropped sex into his voice.

“Don’t you wish this was your hand? Don’t you wish you could feel me? I do. I want your hands on me as you pull these clothes off my body. I want to _feel_ you, alpha.”

Deadpool swallowed audibly.

Peter stepped forward slowly, pulling at all the enhanced agility his body now had, in order to turn his movements liquid and silent. The white spots of Deadpool’s mask that looked, frankly, impossible to see out of, were riveted to Peter’s movements. Even through all that constrictive leather, a wave of alpha pheromones rushed into the room, making Peter’s spidey sense tingle.

“Alpha…” Peter breathed, letting his hands roam and his shirt hitch higher. His body undulated into the smooth press of his own palms, chasing after the sensation of it. “I _need_ it, alpha. I need your skin on mine, pressing against me, covering me, claiming me.”

“And the Academy Award for Best Actor goes to…” Deadpool mumbled.

Annoyance flared through Peter, but he did his best to suppress it. He didn’t break his character, and instead reached out to run his hands over the leather of Deadpool’s suit. The larger man shivered and his breath hitched, but he didn’t move as Peter’s hands roamed, exploring the feeling of muscles underneath.

“You’re so _big_ , alpha.”

“Ya know, nobody says ‘alpha’ that much in real life.” Deadpool tried to quip, but it came out distant and weak.

Not that Peter needed to be told that. The practice of calling people by their gender was something Hollywood and romance novels perpetuated, but that was exactly why sex workers said such things. They were selling a fantasy and that fantasy involved all the great tropes.

“Do you not like it?” Peter all but purred, and his hands trailed down one arm to capture Deadpool’s wrist.

“I… didn’t say… that…” Deadpool was losing coherency. That was good. It gave Peter more control.

Lifting the gloved hand to his face, Peter started mouthing at it while maintaining eye contact with the stupid blanked out white eyes of the mask. “You taste like leather,” Peter whispered. “What a surprise.”

Apparently, mild sarcasm was a kink of Deadpool’s, because he moaned at that, rather than it triggering his dominant alpha urges to put the sassy omega in their place. Peter made a mental note of that. He was a professional and collected all the data he could in order to keep control over a session.

Slim fingers hooked into the base of the glove and slid the fabric down, centimeter at a time, to expose the skin underneath. Peter kept a close eye on Deadpool’s reactions, prepared at any moment to jump away if he had to. The mercenary was rigid as Peter pulled off the fabric, seemingly prepared as well for Peter’s violent reaction.

Dragging the glove down so slowly gave Peter time to adjust to what he was seeing. By the time Deadpool’s hand was revealed, Peter was able to completely control his reaction. Sure, it wasn’t pretty, and Peter understood why Deadpool preferred to hide it. However, in Peter’s line of work, he had quickly come to trust the pretty ones far less than those who couldn’t live up to society’s standards.

The warped skin was something Peter could use to his advantage — something that could be turned into a tool for manipulation. And that was exactly what Peter needed. He had to strive for any upper hand he could get in the face of dangerous and entitled alphas.

Bringing those thick fingers up to his face, Peter tilted his head, stuck out his tongue, and started performing the most lewd acts he could upon them. Peter watched Deadpool as Deadpool watched his hand, and the teeth, tongue, and lips that danced over his skin. A violent tremor shook Deadpool’s frame and Peter suddenly felt lightheaded. The man must have been giving off massive amounts of pheromones at that point.

Peter suckled on the end of Deadpool’s middle finger before pulling off with a pop. He let his bottom lip brush against the tip as he spoke. “And now you taste like danger,” he breathed.

“Fuck,” Deadpool cursed, his fingers twitching like they both did and didn’t want to jerk away. “How can you be sexy and cheesy at the same time? That’s so fuckin’ unfair. _Fuck_.”

Peter trailed his cheek down wet fingers and across the large scarred palm in order to kiss the inside of Deadpool’s wrist. “Do you prefer it when things are fair? Or do you prefer to be on top?”

“Admiral Ackbar!” Deadpool squeaked and yanked his hand back. He paced off a few steps, not looking at Peter and taking deep breaths.

For Peter’s part, he just blinked in shock. That had never happened to him before. Usually alphas loved it when you stroked their egos. And sure, Peter purposefully phrased things in such a way because the bitterness inside him just couldn’t be contained, but nobody had ever called him on it. Especially when said person was sporting a hard-on as raging as Deadpool’s was.

“Okay, look!” Deadpool spun around, and propped his hands on his hips. “I frequent these fine establishments ‘cause ain’t nobody gonna fuck this bod without a decent upfront payment. That doesn’t mean I ain’t got no respect for the workin’ class. I dated a prostitute once before the hamburger meat happened, ya know? Very fine gal. Careless whisper. _Wham_.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“Look.” Deadpool chopped his hands to emphasize his statement. “The point is, I’m not here because of some power trip or crazed need to hurt anybody. I’m here because I can’t take suppressants and I can’t just walk around downtown in the middle of my rut like it ain’t no problem.”

A small tendril of guilt swam around in Peter’s gut, but he squashed it. He didn’t need an alpha _mercenary_ making him feel guilty for a job he was forced to have. Nor for doing whatever he could to stay safe while doing said job. A frown line was starting to form between his eyebrows, but he valiantly fought against it.

He was a _professional_ , damn it.

“Alpha,” Peter soothed. “I don’t know what I did to upset you—”

“You do, but I’m not upset.” Deadpool cut Peter off with a swipe of his hand. “I just wanted to make that very clear between us. _You_ have all the power. I _need_ to be here. Got it?”

Peter was still and quiet for a long moment as he considered that. “So… If I tell you to stop… you will?”

He wasn’t entirely sure why he asked. It wasn’t even all that important. He wasn’t getting paid to argue or negotiate. He was getting paid to lay down and take it. Alphas in rut were rough and blinded by biological need. They didn’t need a helping hand, just a warm body to plow into.

A warm body that smelled like an omega who conveniently couldn’t get pregnant. Peter was a glorified sex doll, and he knew that. He had come to terms with that. He gave his clients the fantasy they wanted until they ripped Peter’s clothes off and went to town.

But for the life of him, Peter couldn’t tell what Deadpool wanted.

“If you tell me to stop and I can’t, I’ll chop off my dick.” Wade shrugged like that was no big deal. “Wouldn’t be the first time I did that to stave off a rut, and it always grows back. It’s fine.”

Now Peter _really_ didn’t know what to think. “Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re an alpha.”

“So?”

“So?!” Peter threw up his arms, anger exploding out of him suddenly, uncontrollably, and with force. “So alphas control everything! They shape the world! Everyone bends to their every whim! What do you have to gain by acting like you're different when you’re _paying_ me to submit?”

Deadpool tilted his head in confusion. “Has anyone ever made you feel good in bed, Baby Boy?”

Thrown by such a response to his tirade, Peter blinked and tried to make sense of the question he had just been asked. “Why does that matt—”

“Why does it matter?! Of course it matters!” Deadpool looked overdramatically upset. “Heavens to Betsy, you haven’t had a single alpha satisfy you in bed! No wonder you hate your job.”

“I don’t hate—”

“No need to lie to me, Baby Boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Peter mumbled, still confused as to where their conversation was going or how it started in the first place.

Deadpool scoffed. “And what do you want me to call you? _Ceveo_? Spare me.”

“Why do you know what that means?” Peter’s voice was frustrated and annoyed, but he was having an unusually difficult time controlling his emotions.

“Latin is a standard course is Canada.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I like learning dirty words in _every_ language.”

“That one I’ll believe.”

Deadpool laughed and walked back over to wrap his arms around Peter’s waist. “You’re feisty. I like that.”

“Because you want to make me submit to you anyways?”

“No, because I like a little fire in people. You don’t see that much in omegas these days.”

“For a reason.” Peter must be crazy. _Why_ was his mouth getting away from him?

“I know…” Deadpool seemed a little sad about that, but the emotion was swept away in an instant, likely because his body was rebelling to the pause in sexual activity. The taller man leaned over and pressed his face against Peter’s ear. “Let me show you a good time.”

“Why would you worry about me?”

“Because I like to _give_ in bed. It makes me happy. And I’m paying you to keep me happy, right?”

“Right…” Peter mumbled. But it sounded like Deadpool just said that in order to placate Peter, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Deadpool’s leather clad hand ran up the back of Peter’s shirt. It was rough and caught on his skin on odd ways, making it tingle in the leather’s wake. The other hand slid down to cup Peter’s ass, massaging over the tight spandex that covered it. Deadpool was specifically not groping, but _massaging_ , trying to make Peter enjoy the firm pressure of it.

For reasons he couldn’t quite define, Peter felt nervous. No alpha had ever attempted to make him feel good, and those hands _did_ feel good, and it just didn’t fit with his understanding of reality. Was Deadpool trying to manipulate Peter? And if so, to what gain? Everything Deadpool could possibly want could be accomplished whether Peter was enjoying himself or not.

Deadpool tugged the shirt up and Peter lifted his arms automatically so it could be taken off. The mercenary tossed the shirt over onto an overstuffed chair that sat in one corner of the room. He looked down at Peter’s body and growled appreciatively. In the meantime, Peter’s head was spinning.

The shirts were made the way they were for the purpose of being torn off. It’s what alphas did. They liked releasing their need for aggression and control when lost in the heady rush of their rut. Not only had Deadpool carefully removed the shirt, he hadn’t thrown it haphazardly on the floor somewhere. To add to that, the noise of pleasure that the alpha was making caused something deep inside of Peter to languidly preen in response.

Peter’s omega was was responding to Deadpool’s alpha. Even during his heats, Peter’s omega had _never_ responded to an alpha before. Panic shot through him like a bolt and his body seized up. He wanted to fight Deadpool off and run, but the fear of what might happen to the others if Peter left kept him still. Deadpool was unstable. Angering the alpha could send him into a rampage.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Deadpool whispered in Peter’s ear. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Control. Peter needed his control back, because he wasn’t _in_ control anymore. Peter’s hands shot out to grip the front of Deadpool’s costume. The alpha paused, trying to assess what was happening with the omega. Peter swallowed and forced a look of calm to cover his face. He looked up at Deadpool’s mask, eyebrow quirked in a challenge.

“I want you naked.”

It was a demand, and omegas didn’t _give_ demands, they followed them. However, pushing Deadpool’s buttons would at least bring them back to some kind of normalcy. Peter could handle overbearing alphas. He couldn’t handle whatever it was Deadpool was trying to do.

There was a long moment of silence as they stared each other down, and then abruptly, Deadpool ripped off his mask. The sight wasn’t pretty, but it calmed Peter like nothing else so far had. It was a reminder that Peter could manipulate the situation to his favor. Deadpool had a complex about his appearance, and Peter could _use_ that.

“Wanna change your mind?” Deadpool asked.

In response, Peter lifted up onto his toes and mouthed along the line of Deadpool’s jaw, his tongue traveling along all the bumps and dents the skin created. Deadpool’s breathing went irregular and harsh. Some of the tension Peter had been holding melted away. He was back on top of this situation, like he should be.

“More,” Peter breathed into Deadpool’s ear, causing the man to shudder.

Deadpool pulled off his other glove and sent it flying across the room with a muttered complaint about pushy omegas. His belt was next, the heavy pouches causing it to hit the floor with a loud thunk. When it came to his shirt, however, he paused like it was somehow too much of a hurdle.

So Peter set to work. He ran his hands up underneath the edge of the leather, feeling his way along the bumpy skin underneath, slowly lifting the shirt as he went. Deadpool made odd noises, like what Peter was doing was painful and scary. It calmed Peter to hear it.

“Do you like my hands?” Peter asked.

“They’re the best hands…” Deadpool wistfully replied.

Peter smirked as he forced the shirt up higher, revealing the rippling and defined muscle to be found under the warped skin. He bent down and mouthed at it, feeling better with each wounded noise Deadpool made. By the time Peter had the shirt off and tossed to the side, Deadpool was a quivering mess.

“I want to get you off before I fuck you,” Deadpool abruptly announced.

“You… What?” Peter blinked up at the surprisingly blue eyes above him.

“I want to suck you off.”

“Oh…” That was something Peter had never experienced outside of high school. “Why?”

“Because I’m paying you for what I want, remember?”

“Right…”

Deadpool didn’t give Peter any more time to think on it. Shuffling forward, Deadpool maneuvered Peter until the back of his knees hit the bed. Large hands gripped the tight spandex of Peter’s shorts, pulling them down before pushing Peter back onto the bed. The shorts soon went sailing across the room to surprisingly land right alongside Peter’s shirt without even a backwards glance from Deadpool.

“Get comfy,” Deadpool instructed, crawling up after Peter.

Comfortable. It was almost laughable. Peter had never been comfortable since the day he started this job. Now a dangerous mercancy was telling him to relax in order to be the first one pleasured. Was this a trick? Was Deadpool secretly a cannibal with very specific tastes in body parts eaten?

“What a fuckin’ perfect cock,” Deadpool said, though it sounded mostly to himself.

Once more, something deep inside of Peter responded to the comment with pleasure. He shuffled around, disconcerted with the feeling of it, thrown that his cock was thickening at the awed sound in Deadpool’s voice.

Hands ran over Peter’s body, caressing and worshiping. Mouth and tongue and teeth made trails along Peter’s hips and thighs, searching for any spots that made him twitch or gasp. He was being mapped out and learned, and that information was being used against him, making pleasure spike through him and his mind buzz with arousal.

Just when it felt like too much for Peter’s reality to handle, warm and wet surrounded his half hard dick and _suckled_ on it. Peter just about bucked up off the bed, and it took every last inch of self control he could muster to stop himself from gripping the bed or Deadpool with superhuman strength. Needless to say, Peter was _fully_ hard in no time flat.

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Peter growled, his body writhing under the onslaught of sensation. It felt so damn _good_. Why was Deadpool so good at this? It was like he had practice at it. But that couldn’t possibly be true. That would imply…

Peter moaned, his thoughts derailing. Deadpool’s tongue was practically _dancing_ along Peter’s member, showering it in attention. Anything and everything Peter could have imagined he wanted from a blow job, he was receiving, and then some. His body trembled under the assault.

The half formed glands in Peter’s ass started leaking. They didn’t produce near the amount of slick that female omegas could, but it was enough to be noticeable. It caused a throbbing and pulsating warmth to build in his abdomen. Only during his own masturbation sessions did his slick ever try to produce naturally. It was one more thing Deadpool was doing that blew Peter’s mind.

Pleasure spiked high and fast, pressing hard against Peter’s self control. Part of him didn’t want to orgasm, out of defiance and spite, to prove that an alpha couldn’t give an omega such pleasure. However, Deadpool was surprisingly patient and unrelenting. It was as if he knew Peter was trying to hold back, and refused to back off until Peter lost the battle.

Irrationally, Peter wanted to shove Deadpool away and soak his dick in ice water until his hard-on went away. That was easier said than done. Deadpool’s skillful tongue kept Peter in his place, stealing the strength of will needed to back away from the attack of bone melting pleasure.

His orgasm hit him sudden and hard, stealing his breath and locking up his muscles. Deadpool didn’t even slow down. He carried Peter through oversensitivity until he was a trembling mess, making the most embarrassing mewling noises. He was half blind from it by the time Deadpool pulled back with a smack, having drank down everything Peter’s dick had to offer.

“You’re delicious, too,” Deadpool mused, and Peter could only find it in himself to lay there bonelessly, staring at the ceiling in shock. “As much as I’d love you give you time to recover, looking at you like that…”

Peter’s mind suddenly felt all the more fuzzy, and his hole ached with the need to be touched. Shit, Deadpool must have been pouring out pheromones in response to his delayed rut. An involuntary whine found its way out of Peter’s throat in response to it. His skin flushed and his breathing picked up.

“Shhh,” Deadpool dropped down close, nuzzling his face against the scent gland on Peter’s neck. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

 _Empty promises,_ Peter tried to remind himself, but his body wasn’t paying attention anymore. His back arched, seeking skin to skin contact, desperate to feel what Deadpool’s body was hinting so strongly at.

“Are you already lubed up?” Deadpool asked.

Peter nodded. He was always lubed and ready at work, long ago learning to ignore the odd feeling of being so slippery all the time. With how much his glands had responded to the earlier proceedings, Peter was more than ready to go. And holy shit, did his body _yearn_ for it.

In an abrupt movement, Peter was flipped onto his stomach. Strong hands yanked at his hips, pulling him up into a presenting position. A leg kicked his knees further apart, while one hand pressed on the back of his neck, keeping his chest and cheek flat against the sheets. He trembled and whined, a nervousness he thought long forgotten settling into his gut.

“It’s alright,” Deadpool shushed as he ran his free hand up and down Peter’s spine. “You can take what I give you. I know you can.”

Deadpool’s hard cock pressed up against Peter’s now dripping hole, and slid in without effort. That was another omega trick. Even as a male, he didn’t need to be stretched. Elasticity was something his body came equiped with, which was necessary if an omega hoped to accommodate an alpha’s knot.

His muscles being pulled open, his hole being filled, the weight of the alpha’s body pressing against his own… it felt… _good_. Usually it felt oppressive or disgusting, to the point that Peter either had to imagine someone else or disassociate. He didn’t appreciate what Deadpool was doing to Peter’s body — to his mind.

Then, in true alpha-in-rut fashion, Deadpool started pounding into Peter with force. The heel of Deadpool’s hand pressed just below the base of Peter’s neck, those strong fingers wrapped possessively around the area where a bonding mark would go. The other hand had a bruising grip on Peter’s hip, keeping him in place under the driving force.

It was familiar, the brutal slamming of hips, the need for the alpha to take and take without concern. It helped ground Peter, helped his reality come back into focus. This was something he was used to. All he had to do was brace his hips and take it.

Still, the lingering buzz of satisfaction ran through Peter’s system, twisting the mindless rut he was taking into something that prolonged that hum of pleasure in him. He was _enjoying_ how rough and frantic it was, his body clenching in desire for more pressure and friction. It wasn’t enough to bring him to climax again, far from it, but it was definitely more pleasurable than normal.

 _Damn him,_ Peter thought to himself, his hands balling up the sheets below him into his fists. Why did Deadpool have to be so… contrary?

Deadpool grunted and hissed, slamming hard into Peter, and forcing the half inflated knot inside. Peter whined. Not all alphas that came to see him were in rut, and even if they were, the feeling of a rapidly inflating knot growing inside of him wouldn’t be something he could get used to feeling. He did his best not to squirm, knowing that it wouldn’t help anything.

There were a few more grinds of Deadpool’s hips, swirling the bulge of all that was in him against his now sensitive walls. Peter did his best to breathe through it, willing his body to relax around the too tight invasion. His muscles contracted randomly, squeezing and milking the cock inside of him. Deadpool moaned at the feel of it.

“I probably should have mentioned…” Deadpool’s voice was strained. “My healing factor makes this part really long.”

Long? It was long enough at it was. How much longer could it get? Annoyance flared through him in an instant. Being locked together was always dangerous, with the alpha addled by endorphins, pheromones thick enough to make both parties drunk, and the omega trapped so close to life altering teeth. Peter took a deep breath and tried to stay calm.

“Work with me here,” Deadpool encouraged as he pulled Peter tight against that broad chest and started shuffling them around. After a lot of cursing and painful noises, they were settled on their sides, Deadpool wrapped around Peter like shrink wrap.

Peter lay there in uncomfortable silence, not sure how to handle how clingy Deadpool had suddenly become. He kept nuzzling the side of Peter’s neck, and it took a lot of self control to keep himself from flinching every time it happened. Being wrapped in those arms with a indeterminately long knot left Peter tense and awkward.

“Don’t worry your pretty little face about it,” Deadpool murmured into Peter’s skin. “I won’t bite you.”

_Sure, that’s what they all say._

“Mmm…” Deadpool took a deep breath of Peter’s gland. “How long do I have you?”

“As long as you need, alpha,” Peter appropriately purred.

“You sure you can take that?”

 _What do you take me for?_ Peter groused. “Of course. I’m here to please you.”

Deadpool seemed to find that awfully amusing. “Ohhh, this is a challenge. I’ll make you tap out first.”

Though Peter couldn’t say why he said it out loud instead of in his head like he should, he responded with simply, “You wish.”

It was a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bounces* I'm so excited about this story, guys. Zomg. I have no chill. I hope you all are enjoying it as well! <3 hehe
> 
> Peter has such _issues_. Poor baby. *pets Peter*
> 
> For the most part, when I'm referencing things that "happen in Hollywood or romance novels" I'm referencing the common abo tropes you see in other fics. lol I like taking a look at the grittier side of what an abo world would be like. heh


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I'm posting this as fast as I'm writing it. lol Huzzah for updates! Yay for more smut!

Peter woke up groggily and with an extended moan. Even with his healing factor, he still ached a little. It should go away by the time he went back to work that night, but it likely wouldn’t get rid of the oddly empty feeling inside of him. Feeling empty after a knotting was something that happened in romance novels. What the hell was he doing feeling like that?

Stupid Deadpool. Him and his damn all night rut marathon. Who had that kind of refractory period? It was insane. By the time Peter had limped his way downstairs at the brothel, he didn’t feel a single bit bad for the amount of money Deadpool had left.

The sight of Peter, in pain, unable to stop leaking cum from his ass, and covered in hickeys, cured the other workers, though. They had no desire to seek Deadpool out, no matter how much money the mercenary offered. That was the one bright spot in an otherwise exhausting night.

Well, Peter pretended like that was the only good part, but the truth was… He had never had such good sex in his life. It felt blasphemous to say, being an omega who had just been paid to spend a night with a dangerous alpha in rut. And yet… After so many rounds, Peter could no longer deny it to himself.

He had enjoyed what Deadpool had given.

But so what? So Deadpool had skills in the bedroom. It made sense, given his appearance. He probably worked long and hard to find ways to make up for it so that he could still get laid. Besides, Peter deserved to have a night go well for once.

He enjoyed it, but that didn’t change his position in life. A good dicking didn’t magically cure his problems. It was just a single night of surprising luck in a long string of nights where life continued to shit on him. Hardly a life changing experience.

Peter just needed to forget about it and move on. It wasn’t like he’d ever see the merc again. There was no point in continuing to ponder over the confusing supervillain. Peter had more important things in life to focus on.

By the time Peter had showered and walked downstairs, he felt infinitely better. Aunt May greeted him excitedly. “Oh, Peter! Good news! I have a friend looking for a tutor for her grandchild.”

“Oh?” Peter did his best to sound interested. It wasn’t like he’d get the job. Nobody liked hiring omega tutors.

“A sweet little middle school girl. She’s having trouble with algebra.”

“I’d be happy to meet with her.” Peter smiled, resigning himself to coddling Aunt May.

“Oh, good! I’ll let her know as soon as I can.”

“Sure.”

It wasn’t that omegas never ended up teachers, but they were usually trapped in positions that were less about teaching, and more about childcare. So preschool through early elementary school were about all the options they had. Assuming their alphas would even let them work that long.

Assuming they were allowed to get a teaching license in the first place. Peter picked at his food, thoughts of his dream college racing through his mind. It had been a long time since he had obsessed over what happened all those years ago, but ever since the visit from the neighbor the day before, Peter kept catching himself thinking of it.

Stupid nosey old neighbors.

“You feeling okay, dear?”

Peter blinked, bringing himself back into the present. “Yeah, sorry, I just stayed up too late… reading.”

Aunt May tsked at him. “You have to remember to take care of yourself. You better be eating properly when you’re out at your jobs.”

“Of course I am!” Peter smiled at her. “I make sure to take the secret shopper jobs at restaurants. Free food is the best food.”

She just laughed and shook her head at him as he forced himself to finish his meal. She was right about one thing: he needed to eat in order to compensate for his healing factor. Otherwise, he’d be dead on his feet at work that night.

 

~*~

 

Peter stumbled to a halt in the entry room at Momma Alex’s. They usually didn’t have clients this early, so Peter hadn’t been expecting to see anyone sprawled on the overstuffed couch. He especially didn’t expect to see a certain black and red clad mercenary.

“There he is!” Deadpool excitedly jumped to his feet. “I hope you’re free tonight, Taker.”

“Ceveo,” Peter corrected.

“Same difference.”

Peter flicked his eyes over to an unsure looking Alex, and then back to the excitable Deadpool. “Are you still in rut?”

“It’s lingering a little…” Deadpool dodged a direct answer, making Peter fight off a frown.

“I’ll go get ready.” Peter forced a smile on his face as he sauntered past in order to head to the back. He needed to put away his things, clean up, prep, and get changed into something more appropriate.

“I don’t mind you being all dirty, Baby Boy.”

“I do.”

Peter couldn’t believe the man. How many times did Deadpool frequent the same worker? He could ruin someone’s ass that way. They were lucky that Peter was who he was and could handle it. Was this what made Deadpool dangerous? He acted like he wanted to please the other person, but in the end, he just obsessed over someone until they broke.

It made Peter sick just to think about it. He quickened his pace, wanting to get Deadpool upstairs and out of sight before his eyes fell on any further victims.

It was the quickest prep of Peter’s life, and in no time flat, he had them up in his designated room. Deadpool was all hands at the onset, squeezing Peter’s ass and squishing them against each other. Peter just calmly went along with it, wondering how long things would last that night.

“You know,” Deadpool mused. “I had a suspicion.”

“Of what?” Peter ran his hands along the leather of Deadpool’s suit. “You’re still very covered up.”

Deadpool massaged Peter’s ass a little harder, studying Peter’s purposefully sultry look. “You have a healing factor.”

Peter stopped breathing and his hands froze. What? Why would Deadpool even say that? What was he basing that on?

As if reading Peter’s thoughts, Deadpool pressed his face against Peter’s ear. “Your ass should be too sensitive for me to do this. Not the mention, the marks I left on you are almost gone.”

Peter panicked, shoving Deadpool away with too much strength. True to his reputation, Deadpool was agile enough to go with it and ended up behind Peter in an instant, trying to pin his arms down. Spider sense flared, giving him the split second he needed to get out of the way. He jumped, sticking himself to the ceiling, looking for a way out.

“Ha! I knew it!” Deadpool stopped trying to go after Peter and his spider sense died down completely. Instead, Deadpool just crossed his arms and looked smug. “You’re a mutant.”

“I’m not a mutant.” Because, well, he technically wasn’t.

Deadpool looked disbelieving even through his mask. “Looks pretty mutant-y to me.”

Peter crawled backwards along the ceiling, trying to get some distance between them. “What do you want?”

“Hm? Nothin’. I was just curious.”

“You attacked me because you were _curious_?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Deadpool held his hands up in surrender. “I was only trying to test your reflexes. I didn’t think you’d panic so much.”

Peter dropped to the floor, and then stood up slowly and cautiously. “So now what?”

“No need to be so suspicious.” Deadpool grinned. “Now that I know you can handle _all_ of me, we can have _lots_ of sex!”

“What?”

“People usually can’t handle going all night like you did.”

Peter tried to wrap his mind around what the man was insinuating. “How often are you planning to take up my whole night?”

Deadpool shrugged. “As often as I can. That’s a great deal for you, yeah? Lots of dough.”

“No.”

There was a surprised pause at that. “What? Why not?” Suddenly, Deadpool’s good cheer crumpled. “Is it the skin?”

“What? No.” Peter shook his head to clear it. “I can’t be busy that often.”

“You got regulars?” Deadpool guessed.

“No, I have to…” but Peter wasn’t sure how much detail he should give about his job.

“Ohhh, you take the bad clients, yeah? I hear that’s pretty common.”

Peter blinked at Deadpool, unsure of how to handle him knowing so much about the omega sex industry. “If you understand, then you can set up appointments with me.”

Deadpool pouted, and it was a sight to see through the mask. “But _why_?” he whined. “Aren’t I better than the other assholes?”

“That’s not the point. If you book me every night, that leaves everyone else in trouble.”

“Now you sound like a superhero.” Deadpool propped his hands on his hips, giving Peter a look.

Peter averted his eyes, unable to handle that comment and the memories it evoked. “I’m just trying to keep my coworkers safe.”

Deadpool tapped a finger against his lips. It seemed he was someone that was always in some form of constant motion. “Hmm… So if all the bad clients went away…”

“What?” Peter’s eyes went wide. “No!”

“Why not?” Deadpool sounded exasperated with Peter’s continued efforts to thwart his plans.

“Because you’ll kill them! That’s what you _do_!”

“So?”

“Don’t ‘so’ me! You can’t just go around killing entitled alphas. There won’t be any left in the world!”

Deadpool laughed. “You’re feisty. I like that.” He sauntered closer and Peter told himself that he should be afraid, that he should be keeping his distance from a man casually offering to kill countless people, but… Peter didn’t feel a single bit concerned for his safety. “What if I just scare them off? Compromise?”

“You’ll end up scaring off all the clients. You gonna financially support this whole brothel?”

“You have a savior complex.”

“And you’re selfish.”

“Meh.” Deadpool seemed unconcerned about the assessment of his character. “I’m just good at getting what I want, and what I want, is _you_.”

“Why?” That was something that was genuinely baffling Peter. Healing factor or not, Deadpool had the funds to hire much better omegas than Peter.

“I’ll answer that question if you answer mine.”

Peter didn’t agree, he just eyed Deadpool dubiously. He wasn’t about to make any promises if he didn’t like the question. Deadpool moved forward until he was in Peter’s space, his presence making Peter’s skin tingle.

“Why are you working here?”

That was a stupid question that only an alpha would ask. “The same reason as everyone else: circumstance.”

“Nooo, I want _your_ story.”

Peter shook his head. There was no way he was divulging the details of his life to _Deadpool_ of all people. Not that he even let himself think about it, much less talk about it to anyone else. He had no interest in whatever game Deadpool was playing.

“Then the day you tell me your story is the day I explain why I’m so invested in you.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, I give you money, we have sex, and I prove I can make this place profit without any killing and without anyone getting hurt.”

“How?”

“Baby Boy, I have learned a lot of skills over the years. You should put a little more faith in me.” Deadpool took hold of Peter’s hips and pulled them forward, grinding their crotches together. “And for right now, how about I show you a good time?”

“Isn’t that my line?”

“I’ll concede that line when you’re better than me in bed.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, the dig flaring his competitive spirit to life. “I look forward to making you tap out, Mr. Pool.”

A fierce grin spread across Deadpool’s face. “That’s the spirit.”

Three hours later found Peter on his knees with his ass in the air and his hands pinned above his head. For all his talk about wearing Deadpool out, Peter was the one struggling to keep up with back to back marathons. Not to mention, unlike the night before, Deadpool didn’t ease up on the pace and intensity.

“You can always beg me to go slower.” Deadpool’s smirk was loud and clear, daring Peter to give in first.

“Like hell,” Peter growled and slammed his hips back to meet Deadpool’s thrust. They both groaned at the feeling of that. Deadpool recovered first, of course, and kicked things up a notch.

It was like the man had an unerring ability to find Peter’s prostate and overstimulate it. Peter’s legs were trembling and his eyes kept rolling back in his head of their own accord. Little trails of spit dripped down his chin and onto the sheets. The _slap, slap, slap_ of skin caused Peter’s drooling cock to bounce, drawing attention to it.

The point of Deadpool holding Peter’s hands in place was to keep him from grabbing his needy cock. Deadpool promised that if Peter kept giving into that impulse, it would end up too sensitive to touch. This left Peter all but whining in need, but he refused to mention it. Saying something would be akin to giving in.

And he wasn’t about to give in.

Deadpool grunted and shuddered, his hips stilling. Peter could feel the warmth of another load of cum spreading along his raw insides. Deadpool’s knot wasn’t nearly so prominent as it had been the day before, and he seemed to have more control over his impulses, because he didn’t push it into Peter.

Normally, Peter would have insisted, just to prove he had the upper hand, but after three hours of non-stop sex, he was grateful for Deadpool’s courtesy.

They stayed still for a blissfully long time, Deadpool’s cock finally softening some. They were both panting and sweating like crazy. Deadpool leaned over and licked a long line up Peter’s spine, causing a violent shudder, making them both moan.

“Is…” Peter sucked in another breath of air, trying to force his body to obey his commands. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I’m starting to think you’re a masochist,” Deadpool chuckled.

“I’m starting to think you’re all talk.”

Deadpool dropped his weight onto Peter’s back, pressing his face close to the other man’s ear. “Yeah? Then how about a wager.”

Peter closed his eyes, resisting the urge to writhe against the feel of Deadpool’s body. “Go on.”

Large hands gripped Peter’s legs and pulled them down, forcing him to lay on his stomach, his body pressed firmly into the mattress. It was the first time there had been any kind of touch on his cock for hours. He moaned at the feeling of it. His cockhead so sensitive, he could practically name the thread count of the sheets.

“I’m gonna fuck you just like this, nice and slow, and if you don’t cum, I’ll let you fuck _me_.”

Peter’s eyes went wide in shock. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying. I’ve done it before.” Deadpool chuckled, watching Peter’s face. “You’re so surprised.”

“Alphas don’t—”

“I get that you’ve met the worst kind of alphas in your life, but let’s not eliminate those out there who enjoy their kinks.” Deadpool nipped at Peter’s earlobe. “You up to the challenge?”

“Yes.” Peter having a chance to fuck an alpha? No way in hell he was passing that up.

“I thought you would be.”

Then Deadpool was moving again, slowly rocking his hips in a gentle swaying motion that dragged firmly yet softly over Peter’s abused prostate. Peter hissed at the feeling of it, his hips involuntarily jerking against the sheets. Suddenly, he doubted how well he’d succeed in this challenge.

The firm press of Deadpool’s hips moved Peter just enough to cause the slightest friction against his cock, trapped as it was between damp sheets and firm body. With every slow stroke inside of him, a bolt of pleasure lit up his nerves, and it was compounded by the barely there stroking on his thus far untouched cock.

Peter whined.

“Aw, poor Baby Boy,” Deadpool whispered. “You need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Peter breathed, biting at his lip and yelling at his body to calm down.

Another slow rocking of hips, another flare of too intense pleasure, another hitch of breath. The tight heat in his core kept building higher without his permission. His cock twiched and his hips jerked, wanting more stimulation when he kept telling himself not to seek it out.

“You like being fucked soft and slow,” Deadpool purred. “Do you enjoy being treated gentle?”

“Don’t…” but Peter’s voice cut off with a gasp and a whine as he tried not to grind himself against the bed and failed.

The problem was, Deadpool wasn’t wrong. Peter had rarely been treated gentle during his life, and especially not by other alphas. It was an intoxicating feeling, and something he truly felt would never happen, which only served to compound his body’s reaction to it. A rare delicacy that only he was privy to. Something his body never expected to experience. It was heady.

Deadpool purposefully rocked his hips as slow as he could, dragging along Peter’s sloppy wet insides. The feeling of such a large body draped over him should have felt suffocating and restraining, but it didn’t. It felt comforting and warm, like a heavy quilt pulled around you on a cold morning.

Stupid alpha pheromones telling Peter to feel relaxed and safe. Stupid contrary alpha being gentle and slow. Stupid omega body responding to it all tenfold.

Deadpool mouthed along the skin of Peter’s neck, scraping his teeth without biting, suckling without pain, licking as if Peter tasted like heaven. Deadpool groaned, the sound rumbling in his chest and vibrating along Peter’s torso. There was a more insistent snap of hips, but Deadpool didn’t cum, just enjoyed the feeling of being buried in Peter.

The still deflating knot pressed against Peter’s ass, but didn’t sink inside. He wanted it to. He wanted to stop being treated so well. He wanted to pain to help pull him back from the brink. But most disturbingly, he wanted to feel the knot because the omega in him was keening for it.

“ _Fuck_.” Peter pressed his face further into the sheets. His mind was going crazy; his body was insistent. He was on the edge and desperate for more.

Deadpool pressed into Peter hard, hard enough that the knot was a demanding presence against the ring of muscle still keeping it back. Scarred hips swirled around, grinding Peter against the mattress in barely there circles. Peter groaned, his hands clutching tight to the cotton below him.

“It’s okay to want it,” Deadpool breathed, voice thick with lust. “It’s okay to take it.”

Peter hips jerked, thrusting into the hard press of his own body and then back against Deadpool’s impossibly inexhaustible cock. Pleasure soared sky high and he couldn’t think through it. It sat in his mind like thick cotton as his body temperature spiked, his skin feeling too hot for comfort. He panted into the sheets as his hips jerked with what little movement they could obtain, again and again.

“That’s it. Take what you want.”

That damn voice was like a devil on his shoulder, but he was too far gone to worry about the implications of that. Another long slide against his tender insides, another desperate jerk of his hips, another choked gasp of air. Peter forgot why he was fighting it, convinced himself it was okay, and started chasing after his denied release.

Peter’s body tensed up and he groaned, shaking with blissful climax. It spilled hot and wet in a slowly spreading puddle below him. Another deep noise of pleasure rumbled through his back, followed by a spike of sensation as Deadpool thrust in harder than normal. Then even more seed was spilling into Peter, filling him up, leaving him satisfied in his mindless and floating state of post orgasmic euphoria.

“You’re so good,” Deadpool breathed, fingers running through damp locks of hair as Peter continued to twitch at the feeling of flesh still pressing against all the sensitive places inside of him. “You’re so perfect.”

Peter preened, a purr pulling up and out of his chest instinctively. He liked being praised. Later, when he wasn’t so drunk on endorphins, he’d be angry with himself. But right in that moment, he could forget about the rest of the world and his own problems, and just bask in the moment.

“Don’t worry,” Deadpool cooed. “We can play as many games as you like until you win. I _want_ you to win.”

A content smiled pulled at Peter’s lips and he hummed happily. He wanted to win, too.

 

~*~

 

A week later, Deadpool showed up at the brothel looking rather proud of himself. He made a point to speak to Alex about how the shop was doing. Peter wasn’t sure how the man had managed it, but business was doing well, and they hadn’t had a single black list alpha show up at their door. To add to that, no strange alpha murders or disappearances had popped up on the news.

Despite the easy week Peter had, he had come to work in an unfortunately bad mood, so Deadpool’s smug attitude only set Peter on edge. Though he didn’t praise or acknowledge what had been done for the brothel, Deadpool seemed perfectly happy to just pat himself on the back instead of being told what a good job he did.

That bugged Peter as well, for reasons he didn’t quite want to analyze.

“Sooo?” Deadpool wheedled. “Can I book you for the night?”

Peter stared at him for a long moment. “If someone bad comes in, I have to take them, even if we’re in the middle of something.”

Alex frowned as she watched their exchange. An omega had just told an alpha that he would leave for a different alpha in the middle of sex. That should have set anyone off, especially full of themselves alphas — especially a supervillain mercenary.

Deadpool, however, merely grinned. “Done deal, Uke.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “ _Ceveo_.”

“If you insist.”

Whatever this was between them, it was still a job, and Peter should still be acting like the professional he was. Yet, something about Deadpool caused Peter’s true ornery personality to surface every time. The more Deadpool ignored the snarky little remarks the omega made, the more Peter wanted to see how far he could push.

Which was insane. Deadpool was a well known _murderer_. _What is_ wrong _with you?_ Peter yelled at himself.

Once the door was shut to Peter’s room, Deadpool collapsed onto the chair, in seemingly no hurry to get things started. In defiance, Peter stripped his shirt off and pointedly tossed it on the floor. Deadpool didn’t seem to even acknowledge that.

“What are you in the mood for?” Peter asked, crawling up to straddle Deadpool’s lap. Leather covered hands appreciatively stroked over Peter’s bare skin.

“You’re upset,” Deadpool pointed out, like they were just friends chatting over coffee. “What happened?”

Peter sighed and dropped his head back to look at the ceiling, praying for strength. “Why does it matter?”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t want to talk about my _personal life_ with a _client_.”

Deadpool pouted. “I thought we were friends already.”

“What does it matter to you anyways? You think you can just run off like an alpha in shining armor and fix my problems?”

Deadpool scoffed. “As if you’d let me.”

That caused Peter to look back down at the man below him. He reached out for that damned ever present mask to pull it off. He didn’t like being wheedled for personal information while Deadpool was still able to hide. The man flinched out of habit, but ultimately allowed Peter to pull the thing off and toss it to the side.

“Feel better?” Deadpool questioned.

“Why do you want to know so much about my life?”

“That’s what friends do!”

“Says the person who hasn’t told me a damn thing about himself.”

Deadpool smirked, accepting the challenge. “The name’s Wade Winston Wilson. I come from the great province of Saskatchewan. Born human, went into the military, dishonorable discharge, got cancer, got experimented on, went crazy, then gained a bunch of fancy powers and a terrible new look.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, but I can’t, because I’m practically immortal.”

After studying Deadpool’s face for a long while, Peter finally decided it was the truth. Either that, or Wade was a very good liar. Still, it seemed pointless to lie in such a situation. How would any information, truthful or not, be of any use to Peter?

“Fine…” Peter grumbled. “I was offered a tutoring job.”

“You don’t like tutoring?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “They turned me away the moment they met me.”

“Why?” Deadpool seemed genuinely confused, and that just proved to anger Peter even more.

“Because I’m an omega, and omegas are dumb and useless, remember? Not to mention I’m male, and all male omegas are sluts.” Peter waved at the small space between them. “Obviously. So, of course, I’d be a bad influence on their precious child, and just scamming them for money since I couldn’t possibly be well educated with only a high school degree.”

“Sexist assholes,” Deadpool replied with feeling. Peter was stunned. Never, in his entire life, had he heard an alpha so adamantly agree with an omega’s plight. “Don’t look so surprised! What do you take me for?”

“An alpha.”

Deadpool snorted. “Well, it may take me some time, but I’ll prove you wrong about me.”

“There are easier people out there to convince.”

“Yeah, but none as lively as you.” Deadpool grinned. Peter just rolled his eyes. Those thick gloved hands slid down to grip Peter’s ass. “You all prepped and ready to go? Let me fuck the stress right out of you.”

“You think highly of yourself.”

“You know I can follow through. Don’t pretend.”

Peter _did_ know that, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He didn’t even want to admit it to himself, much less out loud. “Perhaps you should leave these things to the professionals.”

“If I had the right looks, I could be a professional, too, ya know.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Peter absently replied as he displayed his flexibility by shucking his too tight shorts without leaving the chair.

“Mmm, I love it when you show off.”

“You’re easy to please,” Peter sassed as he pulled Wade’s cock out of his pants, noting how hard it was already.

“Well, at least we’re both aware of that.”

Peter couldn’t stop the smirk on his face as he sank down onto Wade’s cock. “I want you to just sit there and let me do what I want to you. Think you can handle that?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Wade’s shoulders. “We’ve known each other for a week.”

“And what a week it’s be- _eeeeeeen_ …” Wade moaned as Peter lifted up and slammed back down.

Well, Peter could agree with that. Since Deadpool had popped up in Peter’s life, things had certainly been out of the norm. At least the sex wasn’t so bad. With that thought, Peter set up grueling pace that he knew for certain only _his_ body could handle. May as well show off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Wade. You're so good at the secks.  
> Oh, Peter. Just give into Wade's charms already.
> 
> I am fast running out of names for the person on bottom. Having Wade come up with a new one every time was a bad idea. XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't stop writing on this, zomg~

Sometimes, Deadpool would be away for work, doing who only knew what illegal things. Other times, he’d be with Peter nearly non-stop for days. They had sex, of course, but they also did a wide variety of other things.

Wade was insistent on learning more about Peter’s abilities. Often, he did that when Peter was least suspecting, making it so that Peter couldn’t hide anything. This lead to Wade coming up with tips and tricks for Peter to use.

“You rely on your ability to sense incoming attacks too much,” Wade scolded. “You need some basic self defense moves under your belt.”

“Why? I can handle the average attacker.” It wasn’t like he was going out fighting crime every night.

“Maybe _you_ can, but if you learn it, you can teach it to others.”

And that was how Wade would sell it, dangling the idea of Peter helping other omegas to protect themselves. Slowly but surely, Peter was learning how to fight in a combination of his own powers, and efficient use of technique. It was an odd feeling, given his history. He tried not to think too much on it.

On the days that Deadpool didn’t show up, Peter took regular clients. Not having to deal with rule breaking or violent assholes was nice, for a change. Unfortunately, Wade had ruined Peter. The entitled comments the other alphas made grated on Peter, testing his acting abilities while around them. Not to mention, the sex was bad. Just a bunch of regular schmucks grunting while mindlessly thrusting into a warm hole.

It was both comforting and irritating in its normalcy. When Wade would show up again, it left Peter almost excited to jump into bed once more. Wade noticed, because of course he did, but he didn’t say anything about it. Peter was relieved that his desires weren’t brought out in the open, but also annoyed that they had been pegged in the first place.

Their games in bed continued, getting all the kinkier. Wade pushed Peter, who responded with more excitement than he ever thought that he would. He kept telling himself it was all because of the money. It was a good excuse to hide behind, but ultimately, it was untrue. Not that he let himself think on that much.

They’d become an odd sort of friends with benefits, sharing only tidbits of their lives with each other. Still, it was enough to build up a certain amount of trust between them. Which was how Peter found himself allowing his current predicament.

There was a trunk in the room opposite the bed that contained all manner of kinky equipment, though it was rarely used. Wade had been excited at the discovery of the spreader bar and immediately requested its use. Thus, the thing had been attached to Peter’s ankles, keeping him spread and accessible.

However, Wade didn’t stop there. Peter was on the bed, on his back, with his wrists and the spreader bar attached to the headboard. This meant he was bent in half, with an easy view of his own feet. It also meant that his ass and cock were on full display with no hope of covering up or shuffling away.

Peter’s job was to be naked and fuck. The position shouldn’t have affected him much, but it did. Knowing how open he was, how vulnerable, how on display… it left him feeling more than a little embarrassed. He did his best to hide that, however, not wanting to give Wade any more power than was already provided.

“You can break out of that, right?” Wade asked.

“In a heartbeat,” Peter confirmed. It was all cheap aluminum and scrap leather products. They didn’t capture him so much as encourage him to maintain the position he was in.

“Good.” Wade walked over with a collection of toys. “The challenge for today is: if you can cum untouched, you can request any position you want from me.”

Peter shivered. He rarely won these games, but when he did, Wade followed through. He let Peter be in the dominant role if that was what he wanted. Having command over an alpha, even if it was freely given, was addictive. It kept Peter coming back for more, and perhaps that was Wade’s goal.

Whatever the case, Peter was ready to win.

Something cold and slippery pressed up against his hole and he forced himself to relax around it. It slipped inside without trouble. It was small and smooth. Peter was surprised that Wade hadn’t picked one of the more intimidating looking dildos.

“So the trick is I have to cum on something I can barely feel?” Peter asked. “Seems unfair.”

“Oh, I’m making this _more_ than fair. Don’t worry.”

It was at that point, the thing hummed to life. The vibrations were sharp and demanding. Wade’s aim was impeccable and he easily pressed it against that sensitive spot deep inside. If Peter hadn’t been tied down, he would have come off the bed at the feeling of it.

“So responsive already,” Wade laughed. “It’s on low.”

“ _Fuck_!” was the only thing Peter could get out.

“Is it too much?” Wade started moving the thing in tiny circles, as if that would somehow lessen how intense it was. “You aren’t tapping out already, are you?”

“Guh!” Peter trashed around as much as he could, which only really succeeded in making a mess of his hair.

“Give it a little bit, it’ll get easier.”

Peter’s legs were trembling and it felt like every nerve in his body was being zapped. The sensation was too much to be called pleasure, but was just shy of pain. He couldn’t rationalize it. His mouth worked but nothing came out.

After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a few minutes, Wade’s words came true. The feeling became bearable, and warmth started spreading through him in an unstoppable force. He heaved in air as he slowly became more aware of himself.

Tears were streaking down his face and his cock was hard. His stomach was clenching and unclenching at random and without his control. Locked in their position in the air, his feet were tense and drawn back, toes trembling and taut.

All the while, Wade oh-so-carefully rubbed the damnable thing along Peter’s prostate, never speeding up or slowing down, just maintaining that which Peter was slowly becoming accustomed to. He was, frankly, worried about what would happen once he got used to it. After all, Wade had pointedly mentioned it was set on low.

“Doing better?” Wade asked.

“Fucking sadist,” Peter wheezed.

“You want to stop?”

“Fuck no.”

Wade laughed while he brought up his free hand and ran it lovingly along one of Peter’s trembling thighs. “I love seeing you work so hard to overcome the odds. A core of steel in you…”

Usually when Wade said such cheesy things, Peter was quick to find ways to shut it down. So in retaliation, Wade said them in scenarios where Peter’s mind could barely keep up long enough to form a scathing response. This meant Peter was left having to just accept the words, letting them wash over him, unable to stop them from sinking in.

Peter moaned, his memories wanting to prove why those words weren’t true, but his thoughts were too scattered. His focus was brought quickly back to his predicament and how all his trashing did nothing but cause more rubbing and more lightning being shot through him. He couldn’t escape it.

“What do you want?” Wade all but purred as he kissed along the tender skin of the crease between Peter’s leg and ass. “You want to beg me to stop, or beg me to touch you?”

Both, but Peter refused to give in that easily. He gritted his teeth and breathed through it, focusing on the building tension and warmth inside of him. That was his way out. All he had to do was follow that to the top and let himself spill over. Then he would win.

“You’re leaking so much,” Wade murmured.

Once it was pointed out, Peter could feel the wetness leaking from him and dripping onto his stomach, a trail inching its way up the slope of his body and towards his chest. The damn thing was milking him. If he didn’t cum soon, he’d orgasm dry, if he did at all. There was no telling if Wade would accept that or claim Peter was faking it.

Since they both knew Peter would try to fake it if he could. He was stubborn, not a saint in these situations.

Peter concentrated on flexing his inner muscles, causing his cock to jump. If he could get a rhythm going, it would offset the lack of touch and allow him to push higher towards the edge. Ride the edge long enough, and your body will eventually fall over.

“Ohhh, now you’re getting the hang of it.” Wade grinned into the hard muscle of Peter’s thigh, letting him feel it. “Trying to dance yourself to orgasm, little willy?”

“Shut up…” Peter growled. He didn’t want Wade’s idiotic ramblings throwing him off his concentration.

Wade tilted the thing up to press harder into Peter’s insides, hard enough that Peter could feel the dulled vibrations in his belly. He cried out as more pre-cum leaked out of him and his legs jerked. Unrepentant, Wade sank his teeth into what flesh he could reach of Peter’s ass.

“Oh, fuckin— FUCK!”

His outburst just caused a happy hum from Wade, who slowly let off the pressure, leaving Peter’s mind crumbled. When he could focus again, it was to find his desire sky high, the pressure so tight, but it needed that extra to push. With great strength of will, he started flexing the right muscles again.

“Mmm, you’re doing so well. Good boy. Keep it up and you get a reward.”

Peter didn’t want to respond to those words. He didn’t want to bask in the praise being given to him. But he was too far gone to remember why, and his mind was too loopy to keep his omega under control. He purred as his eyes rolled in his head, all but wallowing in the words he was normally so ashamed to crave.

“That’s right. You’re so good. So strong. You look so perfect spread out like this.”

 _Fuck_ , it felt good. So good. The words were like a solid presence, soothing over his skin like a balm. His mind drifted away in the pleasure of them, compounded by the stark need of his body. He yearned for more of it.

“More…” Peter breathed.

“Good boy,” Wade growled, and then he turned up the vibration.

Peter’s mouth fell open, but the scream choked off in his throat, his lungs unable to determine if they wanted to make noise or desperately suck in air. His entire body trembled under the onslaught. His orgasm so close it was painful, but still not enough to tip him over the edge.

“Do you want to win?” Wade asked, voice so low Peter could feel it rattle around in his ribcage. He desperately nodded his head, unable to speak as he fought to suck in air.

“Do you want to show me how good and strong you are?”

Peter whined, his hands clenched so hard that his nails dug into his palms. His body bucked and jerked, desperately seeking the release that was so close.

“Then all you have to do is…”

“Please…” Peter slurred.

“Cum.”

And just like that, Peter did, crying out his release as he spilled onto his stomach, his dick jerking with each spurt as he chased after his pleasure. When he was finally spent, Peter almost did scream at the feeling of the thing still buzzing inside of him. He tried to form the words to beg for it to stop, but it came out jumbled and pitiful sounding.

Something must have gotten through, because it was turned off and removed. Peter sagged in his bonds, heaving for breath, his body still quaking constantly. He felt absolutely soaked in sweat, and his own ejaculate was still sliding up his body, making even more of a mess of him.

Wade undid the restraints, easing Peter down onto the bed, where he lay in a boneless puddle. Wade murmured pleased words as he soothed his hands over Peter’s exhausted muscles, and licked Peter’s torso clean. For a long time, Peter just floated, enjoying the peace of such an exhaustive scene.

When Peter finally came back to himself, he opened his eyes to see Wade sitting above him, scarred fingers stroking through Peter’s hair. Wade grinned down at Peter. “You won.”

Peter grinned lazily. “I did.”

“What is your reward?”

Ten minutes later, Peter was lounged in the chair, one leg thrown over the arm of it from where he was sprawled. One hand held the glass of water he was nursing, the other ran idly over the pitted plains of Wade’s head.

“It’s peaceful like this,” Peter mused. “I like it when you’re quiet.”

On the seat between Peter’s legs sat Wade’s chin, his mouth wrapped around Peter’s cock. Wade wasn’t allowed to move. He was just to stay like that, warming Peter’s cock, not saying a word. Peter took a sip of his water and studied the man below him.

He had expected Wade to be angry or reluctant to assume such a submissive position and maintain it for so long. However, Wade’s eyes were half lidded and his pupils blown. He looked far gone in his own headspace, seemingly content with just the feel of Peter’s fingers.

Wade’s cock hung heavy and unfulfilled between his bare legs. He wasn’t allowed to touch. He was only allowed to keep his hands on his elbows behind his back. It left Wade as an object for Peter’s whims.

It left the _omega_ in control and the _alpha_ acting as a silent sex doll.

“Such a good boy,” Peter mocked. “How good you are for me, obeying my commands.”

Wade’s eyelashes fluttered and his cock twitched, but he otherwise didn’t move. Peter smiled and dropped his head back to rest on the back of the chair. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.

He could get used to winning.

 

~*~

 

“What’s that?” Peter asked as he plopped down at the kitchen table to eat.

Aunt May slid the card over to him with a smile. “An old friend of mine from college is getting remarried.”

It was an invitation, expensive looking and embossed in gold lettering. Peter noticed the hand written note that came with the invitation still sitting in front of his aunt. He knew that she kept in touch with a lot of old friends, but rarely got to see them. Peter raised his eyebrows at the location.

“Hawaii?”

“She appears to have married into a well off family this time.” Aunt May chuckled. “She seems to think we’re all still young. She has a full tour set up as a package for anyone attending the wedding! Can you imagine?”

Though she was trying to brush it off, Peter noticed the wistful tone of her voice. “How much is a plane ticket?”

Aunt May laughed the question off, picking up the card and walking over to stick it to the fridge. “Too much to splurge on, that’s for certain.”

Peter propped his head in his hand. “You deserve a vacation, ya know.”

“I’ll make up for lost time when I retire.” She winked as she collected up the rest of the letter and stashed it away.

They both knew that retiring wasn’t an option. Her and Uncle Ben had cashed out their 401k multiple times in order to make ends meet over the years. It had been that money that kept a roof over their heads and paid for the repairs on the house.

It had also put Peter through school.

He thought about how much he had saved up over the years. It wasn’t much, and it was supposed to go towards buying equipment he could tinker with to prove his worth as an inventor. Still, it’d be money well spent if he could give something back to Aunt May.

He made a mental note to look up how much it would cost to buy a plane ticket to Hawaii.

 

~*~

 

“I’ll have a job coming up soon,” Wade informed as they made their way into Peter’s room.

“Oh?” Peter did his best to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Airfare and hotel costs for the Hawaii trip was more than he’d expected. Without Deadpool’s endless pockets filling Peter’s, he likely wouldn’t get the funds together in time.

“You sound disappointed,” Wade happily noted, walking up behind Peter to pull them together. “Gonna miss me?”

“Gonna miss the money.”

“I’m wounded!” Wade cried as he ran his leather clad hands up under Peter’s shirt.

“Yes, poor you.” Peter rolled his eyes while at the same time settling further back against Wade’s broad chest.

“If you need the money so bad, have you thought of taking a look into mercenary work? You got the powers for it, and it pays well.”

“I’m not gonna kill people for money.”

Wade chuckled. “Doesn’t always involve killing, per se. There’s a lot of reasons people hire those outside the law to handle things for them.”

“Mmm…” Peter didn’t address that part, not sure how he felt about the business in general.

“Ahh, if you did something good, you’d feel bad about taking the money, hm?” Peter could hear the smile in Wade’s voice. “My little hero.”

“Shut up,” Peter growled, trying to focus his mind on the hands running along his skin and not the moral conundrum of money versus ethics.

Wade obliged by running a hand down inside Peter’s shorts, but it didn’t stop him from talking. “What if it’s a poor little alpha in need?”

“What do you mean?”

Warm leather wrapped around Peter’s cock, stroking him slowly, squeezing in all the right ways that spoke to the intimate knowledge they had with each other now. “I mean, what if it’s an alpha that got himself in trouble. Pissed off the wrong people, and now they’re threatening him. He can’t go to the police, so what does he do?”

Peter hummed, thinking it over. The idea of an alpha getting in over his head based on his own ego was one he liked. They deserved the consequences to their actions. Peter rolled his hips, seeking more of the touch Wade was offering.

“Like that thought, do you?” Wade’s voice was low and rough with arousal. “What about the part that comes after? When you fix the alpha’s problems and then he has to pay you an obscene amount of money. Imagine the look on his face when he realizes it was on omega that saved his pompous ass.”

Peter sucked in air, and thrust a little more insistently into Wade’s hand. He could see it. The look of shock and debasement flashing across some rich alpha’s face when Peter revealed himself to be an omega. An omega now rich with entitled alphan money because only _he_ could fix the problem. An alpha at the mercy of an omega.

“I could help, you know,” Wade purred. “I could set you up with the right missions, take you along with me. I could use your skills. All we have to do is sabotage a drug ring, create a distraction, save the kidnapped family member — stuff like that. Nothing bad. Just enough work to fix a problem and then rake in the dough.”

Peter felt warm all over, his mind spiraling high on physical pleasure mixed with his self righteous imaginings. It all seemed so easy. Using Deadpool as a contact meant an extra buffer to keep Peter out of it. It was a dirty fantasy he’d always wanted and never allowed himself to dream of.

“Imagine…” Wade whispered, his breath hot against Peter’s ear, his hand quick and insistent on Peter’s cock. “Imagine all those petty corporate alphas begging you to fix their mess. Imagine the look in their eye as they pay an omega to fix their problems.”

Peter gripped at the arms around him as his legs grew weak. He was so close to the edge. His lungs heaved as he panted. There was something warm, yet hard growing growing in his chest, radiating outwards. He wanted what Deadpool was offering. He wanted that satisfaction, and the freedom of the money that came with it.

“Taking back what you deserve.”

Peter moaned as his legs shook.

“A hero to those truly in need.”

“Ah!” Peter came, spending himself inside the spandex of his shorts, and all over Deadpool’s glove.

The mental image Wade had painted swirled in Peter’s mind, riding on a cloud of bliss. He wanted it. Oh, how he wanted it. His skin tingled just at the thought of it. He allowed himself to revel in the fantasy of it for as long as he could before reason and self doubt grew once more to overtake it.

“I can’t…” Peter whispered, though mostly to himself. He pushed away from Wade, shucking his now dirty shorts and making his way over to the chair to recover.

Wade’s shoulders drooped almost cartoonishly. “Why not?”

“I’m not trained for this, I have no disguise, and I have a lot to lose. Besides, what happens when I’m overrun by numbers or by another super stronger than me? You heal from everything. I don’t.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time! We can split the cash, 50/50!”

“A person like me doesn’t just magically produce that much cash. It would be suspicious, which means I couldn’t even spend it. What use is money I can’t spend?”

“I’ll forge a lottery ticket receipt for you. A fake company payout for getting hit by a car.” Wade walked over and dropped to his knees in front of the chair. He pulled his mask off of his own volition before diving in and licking clean the leftover cum still smeared on Peter’s crotch. “I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll protect you.”

Peter closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the cushion of the chair. His hands idly stroked over Wade’s head as he enjoyed the worshiping the merc’s tongue was performing. It was tempting, what was being offered. So painfully tempting…

“You act like there’s already the perfect job lined up,” Peter pointed out.

“Mmm… There will be. He hired someone else, but that person’s a coward. Eventually, they all come to me.” Wade moved on to sucking bruises into Peter’s inner thighs.

“I can’t afford to be shot.”

“I don’t need you for that part of the job, Baby Boy.” Wade cut his eyes up with a wicked grin. “I need someone who can break in from the top of a building while I cause a distraction. If you’re upstairs stealing back what was stolen, that means I don’t have to hack and slash my way upstairs to get it.”

“Are you trying to bribe me into this by saying you’ll kill people if I don’t go with you?”

“No, no, no, Baby Boy. I’m saying it’ll take me a lot longer to come up with a plan if I can’t go in guns a blazin’. Time is of the essence, you see, which is why he’ll come to me in the end.”

“What exactly was stolen?”

“An experimental drug formulated to cure a very rare cancer that resides in the six year old daughter of the millionaire alpha who’s gonna pay us.”

Peter felt like he’d been doused in ice. “Why would someone steal that?”

Wade rested his cheek on Peter’s smooth thigh. “Because said alpha made a deal with a very notorious gang lord to get the funding needed to start his company. He underestimated how difficult it would be to pay back that debt without it being noticed in an audit. So instead of taking the money from his own pocket, he decided he was badass enough to not have pay anything back at all. Let’s just say this is a past due letter.”

“If all he has to do is pay back the money, why would he give it to mercenaries instead?”

“Because the payback is based on a percentage, and his company is doing very well. _We_ could get a hundred grand. The gang lord is looking at two mil.”

“So he’s still not paying up, even though his daughter’s life is on the line?”

A feral grin spread across Wade’s face. “Exactly. Don’t you think he deserves to pay out for us saving his little girl’s life? And at a fraction of the cost!”

Something cold and hard settled over Peter like a second skin. “I think he deserves to pay us one hundred each.”

Wade surged forward, bringing their faces a millimeter apart. “Perfect,” he whispered against Peter’s lips before pressing them together in a hard kiss.

Being a hero, saving the day, it was always a thankless job full of too many hours and too little funds to support it. But this? Maybe Deadpool knew what he was doing after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawaii from from NYC would be roughly $5-6k including hotel costs and spending money. I did a quick search on that. Pricey. >.o
> 
> The merc life is tempting. Oh so tempting. hehe
> 
> I got a doodle of the cock warming scene from a friend! ^.^ Muahahaha!
> 
> (I have spoken to this artist, discussed this with them, have permission from them to show this picture, have permission to talk about this picture, have permission to note and link to the artist who drew it, and am in continuous contact with this artist. Thank you.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Am. So. Excited. About. This. Chapter.

Peter stared at the suit in his hands, uncomfortable in its familiarity. The colors were different. Instead of the gaudy blue and red, it was a deep blood red and inky black. There was no symbol or spiderweb patterns. Yet, there were open places for such things to be added. The suit was surprisingly simple in its design, following only the panel colors of a costume Peter thought he had long forgotten.

The worst offender was the mask. The shape of the eyes were exactly the same. It was haunting, in a way, the blank whites of the large eyes stared up at him with whispers of the past. Surely it wasn’t coincidence that the suit Deadpool had made was so similar?

“How did you come up with this look?” Peter asked.

“Hm?” Wade was running around his studio apartment, gathering the things they needed for the mission. It had only taken their mark a week to finally give in and call Deadpool to finish the job. “I based it off a costume I saw a long time ago. Put my own spin on it, same as I did mine. You like it?”

Peter slipped one of the gloves on and moved his hand around. It was a perfect fit, the material a nice blend of breathable and flexible. “It’s well made.”

Wade preened under the compliment. “Can you still sticky-sticky through the material?”

“Yes,” Peter said as he stuck his fingers to the wall beside him just to verify.

“You want to go over the layout of the building again?” Wade asked, strapping his katanas in place.

“No, I have it memorized.”

“Such a teacher’s pet,” Wade teased.

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m being professional, unlike others among us.”

“I’m hurt! You act like I never have a plan.”

“Says the person playing eeny meeny in his weapons closet.”

“I have a lot of options!”

Wade continued to ramble on about all the options he had, and Peter largely ignored it. Instead, he finished getting dressed and testing out his movement in the new suit. He had brought his webshooters with him, and slipping them on felt oddly heavy. He had no intention to use them, but it was better safe than sorry.

Looking in the mirror, Peter assessed himself. He was like a darker version of who he once tried to be. It was disconcerting in its accuracy. He had burned his suit for the purpose of never being reminded of it again. Yet, there he was, on the cusp of revisiting a part of his life he had long ago abandoned. Except this time, with worse intentions.

“That costume does amazing things for your ass,” Wade growled appreciatively. He walked up behind Peter and took two big handfuls of it. “You look good, Butt Bunny.”

“That is not even a thing people say.”

“It totally is.”

Peter rolled his eyes and pushed away, but was secretly appreciative. Wade had a talent for breaking Peter out of his moods before they could overwhelm him. It was helpful to not get trapped in his own head sometimes. Especially now, when they had a job to do.

“Have you ever used a grappling hook?” Wade asked, tossing a device to Peter.

“No, but I think I can get the hang of it.”

A grin stretched at Wade’s mask. “Good, ‘cause I’m gonna teach you how to travel by rooftop tonight.”

Peter snorted. “Oh, my. However will I keep up?”

 

~*~

 

The top floor of the building held surprisingly clean and well stocked labs, considering the outside of the building looked like it was falling apart. Peter recognized setups for making all kinds of drugs, which was likely funding a good portion of the gang’s business ventures. There was a niggling part of him that wanted to destroy the setup for good measure, but he couldn’t afford to make an enemy out of the gang.

That was something hard won experience had taught him. Something his teenage self couldn’t have appreciated the value of.

It had been easy to break into the building. Crawling up along the bricks outside, sneaking in through a window that was already half falling in, and then breaking the security door that lead to the starkly clean labs. Finding the right lab proved to be just as easy. It was simply the only one not making illegal drugs.

It was also the only one occupied. All of the “employees” were supposed to have gone to the safe room the minute Deadpool had set off a loud and flashy bomb that looked like it did more damage than it had. It was protocol to keep the lab workers safe from attacks.

Apparently, _this_ scientist and his nervous looking assistants could care less about their safety.

“Oh, good! Tour guides! You can help me find what I’m looking for,” Peter said as he strolled into the room. The assistants had the correct reaction and hustled their way into a corner, trying to hide. The scientist, designated by his lab coat and a shirt that literally said “I’m the one in change here” turned around to glare at Peter.

“I’ve got no time for interruptions!”

“And I have no time to get in your way.” Peter held up his hands. “I’m just here to take back something stolen.”

“That’s not my problem. Take that up with the thugs.”

“I think I’ll just take _it_ , if it’s all the same to you.”

“You keep your filthy hands off my work!”

“I’m perfectly hygienic,” Peter argued as he walked over to the filing cabinet in the corner. They should have a folder containing the information he needed, and it would make finding the actual product, and any necessary equipment needed to transport it, a lot easier.

Spidey sense flared and Peter whipped around in time to spot the scientist pulling out a gun. Peter’s old instincts were apparently not dead, because he instantly shot out his wrist and webbed the guy’s hand to the wall, clogging the up the gun in the process. The scientist cursed quite a lot, trying to yank his hand out of the webbing. A futile effort. Peter webbed the guy’s other hand to his chest for good measure.

Someone started crying. Peter looked over to see one of the assistants curled up on the floor, bawling his eyes out and rambling half coherent things about how he never wanted this job. The woman beside him just looked completely and utterly done with the world. She could be useful.

Peter pointed to the woman. “Help me out and I’m out of here faster.” Another explosion on the first floor echoed through building, sending dust falling from some of the deteriorating corners of the ceiling panels. “And so is the guy downstairs.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” the scientist screamed.

The woman sighed, flipped her boss the bird, and walked over to the filing cabinet with Peter. “I assume you’re looking for the cancer research?”

“That’d be the one!”

“Claire I will have your head for— MMPH!” Really, the guy was lucky that Peter was still so familiar with the right amount of webbing to use to make a gag without accidentally suffocating a person.

“I appreciate it,” Claire monotoned as she pulled out a folder, handed it to Peter, and then went to go pack up the goods. With her help, Peter was out of there in a matter of minutes, once he’d verified he had the right stuff.

All in all, it had been an easy in and out mission. Some of the people downstairs were injured, but mostly from friendly fire due to Deadpool running around like a chicken with his head cut off. The first two stories of the building were a mess from the scatter bombs, flash cotton distractions, fireworks, smoke bombs, and people shooting holes in the walls after getting blinded by flash grenades.

Peter was more than happy to have taken the easier part of the mission. Wade was full of himself when they met up afterwards, a few miles away. The mission had gone off without a hitch and he boasted about how it was easy money.

“I was right, yeah? No big deal for you, right?” Wade was all but bouncing up and down with excitement, like a dog looking for praise from his owner.

“Let’s celebrate after we get the money.” Peter looked Wade up and down. “Maybe we should wash the blood off of you first.”

Wade looked down at himself in time to see his body push out one last bullet. It tinked onto the rooftop as the hole in his skin easily healed over. “Ah! Good idea. Don’t wanna mess up the carpets in our mark’s fancy office.”

An hour later, Deadpool was cleaned up and they had bypassed the security system of the large office building in order to make their way into their employer’s office directly. The secretary was the only one to see them, and she went scrambling for cover at the sight of them. Peter decided not to wait on her to press the button to unlock the doors, so he just kicked them open, mechanical bits flying everywhere in his wake.

Wade was noticeably turned on by that. Peter ignored it.

“Was that necessary?!” The alpha was standing behind his desk, body tense and teeth bared. He was trying to look intimidating, but the slight shaking in his hands gave his fear away.

Peter walked over and dropped the box and the file folder onto the desk. “As requested. And an added bonus on what they discovered while working with it.” Peter tapped the folder.

The alpha took a deep breath and straightened out his suit. “You’ve done a good deed today, and saved my daughter’s life. Perhaps thousands of lives with this information being back in the right hands.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wade waved his hand in a circle. “Let’s get to the exchanging of funds.”

There was a look on the alpha’s face that Peter wanted to punch off of it. One that said he saw the other two as people less than worthy of his time and attention. “Your little stunt is all over the news already. You may have done the world a service by bringing me this, but it will be pointless if you escalate things into a war between my company and a group of thugs.”

“I’m sure you can handle a few thugs.” Wade grinned.

“Do you know how much this is costing me already?”

“Are you trying to stiff us on the money?” Peter’s voice was dark and quiet.

“I’m saying that I will being spending a lot of money on added security in order to fix this mess you so called ‘professionals’ have created.”

“Ah, I get it,” Deadpool said as he swaggered a little closer. “You’re trying to haggle the price down.”

Peter let out a huff of a laugh and crossed his arms. “Sure. We can haggle. That will be one hundred thousand dollars.” He tipped his head to the side. “For each of us.”

The alpha gritted his teeth. “Can’t you get it through your thick heads? I can no longer afford two hundred—” Just like that, there was gun in his face, and his words stumbled to a stop.

Wade hummed. “You pay us less, and we take out the cost in the form of a body part. Don’t worry. It won’t be one you really _need_.” He flicked his eyes to the man’s crotch.

There was a tense silence as the alpha considered his options. Sweat formed on his brow as he stared down the barrel of the large gun. He swallowed audibly before speaking in a valiantly steady tone. “I’ll go open the safe.”

“You do that!” Wade cheerily replied.

The alpha took his time, likely trying to think of some way to get out of his predicament. Peter walked around the man’s desk, noting the expensive leather chair he had in place of a regular office chair, and how his desk was full of the most expensive gold plated items. To top it all off, there wasn’t a single picture of the man’s family, or mementos of any kind.

 _He probably doesn’t want his other women to see proof of his family,_ Peter thought to himself, assuming the worst of the man.

“Here.” The alpha slammed down a box onto the corner of his desk. “Just take it and leave.”

Peter smiled, not that it could be seen. He pushed himself back to sit on top of the desk, pulling one leg up to his chest and left the other to dangle in the air. He leaned back on his arms, keeping his eyes firmly on the alpha as he addressed Wade.

“You have what you need to check the money, right?”

“Always on me!” Wade happily replied. He rummaged around in one of his pouches and then set to work, humming to himself as he went.

The alpha scoffed at them. “You take me for an idiot?”

“I do,” Peter replied.

The man growled and took a few threatening steps forward, trying to be intimidating by looming over Peter. With just a small amount of super strength, Peter lifted his foot, and used his toes to shove the alpha into his fancy chair. The man coughed and immediately tried to stand back up, but Peter shoved him back down, pinning the larger man in his seat with the ball of one foot.

“You don’t seem so grateful, given that we brought you information that can ‘save so many lives.’”

The alpha growled. “And how do I know that anything in that folder is useful, or that you even brought the right medication?”

“Oh? Is that what you’re worried about?” Peter asked in his most patronizing voice. “Here, let me read you the fine print.” He picked up the folder, flipping it open to the long data printouts. “Don’t worry, I’ll summarize it in layman’s terms so you can understand.”

So as Wade meticulously went through the money, Peter read off the details of the medication. He kept the alpha pinned in place, with enough force to guarantee a bruise to remember him by. When Peter finished his summary he looked up to find the alpha angry enough that he was ready to pop a blood vessel.

A thrill ran up Peter’s spine at the sight. The alpha was furious, rich, powerful, and utterly _helpless_ against the power of one toe on Peter’s foot. It was such a rush, he nearly felt dizzy from it.

“Do you need me to explain it again?” Peter mocked. “I can drop it down even further. Maybe explain it elementary terms?” He tossed the folder back onto the desk. “The medicine goes into the body and _pew pew_ , it kills the cancer cells.”

Wade laughed. The alpha in the chair snarled. Peter’s chest felt warm.

“We’re all good,” Wade announced.

Peter dropped his foot. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

“If you’re not careful, you’ll both end up in prison one day,” the alpha threatened. “Uppity beta scum.”

Peter slowly slid off the desk, and hooked a finger into the neckline of his suit. He stretched it out just enough for the smell of his sweat to waft into the room before letting it snap back into place. Every gender had a distinct undertone to their smell, something musky and cloying that was identifiable once you learned how to notice it.

The alpha’s eyes went wide when the smell reached him. He looked stunned and disbelieving. “You’re—”

Peter was on the man in an instant, hand wrapped tight around the alpha’s throat. He kept the momentum going until the chair flipped, forcing the alpha into an awkward position, his body half in the overturned chair, and half on the floor. Peter loomed over the man, hand squeezing tight enough to scare, but not enough to cut off air. Yet.

“I’m the person who saved your daughter’s life. You should be grateful to me.” Peter applied a little more pressure and listened to the man wheeze for air. “Tell me how grateful you are.”

The alpha clawed at Peter’s arm to no avail. The sight of him on the floor, vulnerable, fighting for breath, unable to fight back… Peter’s breathing kicked up and his skin flushed under the suit. He felt intoxicated.

“Say it,” Peter whispered.

“I’m… gr— ack! Grateful…” the alpha wheezed.

A tremor worked its way through Peter’s body. “Good alpha,” he breathed and let go, leaving the man to choke and gasp for breath as he tried to roll himself out of the chair.

Walking away, Peter noticed Wade’s very prominent bulge in his pants. The box of money was tucked up under the merc’s arm and a lewd grin was stretching his mask.

“Let’s go,” Peter said, acting as if he wasn’t just as ready to fuck as Wade was.

“Oh, this is gonna be a _good_ night!” Wade cheered as he followed after.

 

~*~

 

The moment they were back in Wade’s apartment, they were tearing each other’s clothes off. Peter had Wade pinned to a wall, forcing him into silence by kissing hard enough to click their teeth together. Scarred hands left trails of fire along Peter’s skin, arousal suffusing every cell in his body.

Peter was practically buzzing with energy. He clawed at Wade’s skin, his hands unable to stay still, and definitely unable to stay gentle. He wanted to _hurt_ Wade. He wanted to _fuck_ Wade. He wanted to see Wade cry.

Giving into impulse, Peter threw Wade onto the bed, forcibly ripping the rest of the man’s costume off, uncaring that it would need to be sewn back together later. Wade shuddered in arousal, his cock already rock hard. Peter pinned the larger man to the bed. He was panting for breath, his blood pumping fast in his veins, his eyes intense and focused.

“You want _me_ to be Ceveo tonight,” Wade said, a pleased grin on his face.

“You got a problem with that?”

“None at all.”

Peter flashed a feral grin before flipping Wade over and yanking his hips back, forcing him into the presenting position — forcing Wade to play the part of needy omega. Peter raked his eyes down the sloped back, the taut ass, the steady thighs… It was perfect.

“This suits you,” Peter all but purred.

Wade wiggled his ass and that was when Peter noticed it. The flare of something peeking out between Wade’s cheeks. Peter ran his fingers along the rubbery texture of it and Wade hummed at the barely there feeling.

“This… is…”

“I figured you’d be looking to plow into some alpha ass tonight.” The smug grin could be heard in Wade’s voice. “I also figured you wouldn’t have much patience. So I’m all stretched and full of lube, ready to go whenever you please.”

“You wore this all night?” Peter asked as he pressed against the base of the plug.

“Sure did.”

“How perfect…” Peter breathed. He leaned over Wade’s body, sinking his teeth into Wade’s neck as he slowly pulled out the plug. Wade moaned and twitched under the sensations. “I’m going to fuck you until you break.”

Wade whined. “Please.”

Peter didn’t take it slow, and he didn’t wait for Wade to adjust. Instead, Peter tossed the plug to the side, gripped Wade’s hips, and slammed home on a single quick thrust. Wade jerked forward under the force of it, the air forced out of him in a harsh grunt.

“Oh, yeah, baby. Give it to me!” Wade gasped.

Peter wrapped his fingers around the back of Wade’s head and shoved his face into the mattress. “Don’t talk. Just shut up and take it.”

A cacophony of alpha voices rattled around in Peter’s head, spewing the same words. Except this time, it was Peter speaking them. This time, it was an alpha getting pounded in the ass. This time, an omega was in control.

The rhythm Peter set wasn’t about pleasure, not Wade’s and not his own. It was about dominance and revenge. He thrust forward beyond the limits of what a normal human body could handle, but he knew Wade could take it, could heal any damage Peter’s blinded need caused. All Peter could focus on was the broad muscled body below him quaking under the power of Peter’s strength.

Wade had a mouthful of sheets he was biting on, making sure any sounds he wanted to make were muffled. His moans were forced into staccato beats every time Peter’s hips slammed home. His breathing was ragged as he tried to suck in air past the hard press of his face into the bed. Both of his hands were gripped white knuckle tight as he tried to keep his trembling body still.

And between his legs, his cock drooled almost constantly, throbbing with unfulfilled want. But Peter wasn’t about to give Wade such pleasure. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill.

“Do you like be taken by me?” Peter questioned. “Do you like submitting your pitiful ego to an omega?”

Wade did his best to nod under the weight of Peter’s hand. He moaned again, and his hole twitched around Peter’s pistoning dick.

“You should. This is where you belong. On bottom. Begging for the blessing of my attention.”

Something halfway between a grunt and whine escaped Wade’s mouth, muffled further by the fabric beneath him.

Peter wasn’t certain how long he spent plowing into Wade’s ass. It was like a trance, or a meditative state. He just kept taking, as hard and fast as he wanted, enjoying the visual of the large man under him being utterly destroyed. It was perfect.

But orgasm snuck up on him eventually through the power of constant stimulation. It warmed his skin, tightened his belly, and kicked up his breathing. He didn’t slow down and he didn’t focus on it, but eventually, it spiked, rolling his eyes into his head and making him shudder with release.

He took a few moments to enjoy that as his cock filled Wade’s hole. Then he slowly sat back on his heels, hands sliding down to rest lightly on Wade’s ass. Peter watched intently as his cock softened and allowed little trails of cum to slip out of Wade. It was a lovely sight.

Under Peter, Wade gasped for breath and shivered almost constantly. He was far gone in his own headspace after being so brutally taken. Likely, he was sensitive enough to feel Peter’s seed leaking from his loose hole. Peter ran his thumbs softly over Wade’s skin and listened to the man moan in response.

“You didn’t cum,” Peter softly noted. “Good. I’m glad that you remembered that this was for my pleasure and not yours.”

Wade made a desperate noise, wiggling around as his untouched cock bounced between his legs. Peter let himself gradually slide out of Wade and then sat back to watch the alpha maintain his position. He looked used, wasted, filthy, and desperate. Peter loved it.

Sitting back on the bed, Peter curled one leg under him and the other he propped up in front of him. He called to Wade, allowing the man to crawl around to face Peter. Wade’s pupils were blown and tears hovered at the edges of his eyes. He was still trembling slightly, but his face… Oh, his face was the picture drunken desire.

“You look like a bitch in heat.” The words tumbled out of Peter, no longer to be restrained. “Just ready to hump anything that your dick can find.”

Wade whined and his hips thrust into empty air. A sadistic grin found its way onto Peter’s face.

“Don’t worry. I’m kind. You can hump my leg like the filthy little whore that you are. Would you like that?”

Wade nodded quickly and crawled forward as Peter leaned back on his arms, watching with joy as the alpha further debased himself. When Wade lifted one hand Peter clicked his tongue.

“No. No hands. No words. You’re nothing but an animal. Act like one.”

So Wade kept his hands on the bed as he awkwardly positioned himself up against Peter’s leg. Still, he didn’t delay. The moment his drooling cock met Peter’s skin, he was rubbing against it with abandon. Peter let his eyes droop, and his head lolled to the side as he watched.

The buzz of his lingering high was extended in the face of Wade’s mindless actions. Peter’s eyes roamed over the broken skin, the misshapen lumps, the tears hovering in Wade’s eyes. The whimpers Wade made as he thrust against Peter like a horny dog sounded like music.

Peter couldn’t help but reach out and run his fingers lightly over the rugged skin of Wade’s bald head. The soft touch in contrast to Peter’s harsh treatment seemed too much for Wade. A second later he was dumping his load all over Peter’s leg, grunting with the effort to keep quiet.

“How naughty,” Peter said. “You got your filth on me. Clean it up.”

Shaking, Wade pulled back enough to bend down and lick up his own cum. He was diligent and thorough, continuing to lap at Peter’s skin long after it was cleaned of Wade’s mess. Peter ran his hand gently over Wade’s temple.

“Good boy,” he whispered.

Wade whined at that and crawled forward, headbutting at Peter’s stomach. Giving in, Peter lay back and allowed Wade to curl up between Peter’s legs, head nuzzled into softer part of Peter’s stomach. Peter ran his hands soothingly over Wade’s head, neck and shoulders.

“Shhh,” Peter breathed into the now quiet of the room. “You did very well. So good for me. So good…”

Alphas couldn’t purr, but Wade seemed to attempt to. Peter smiled at that and closed his eyes, letting the slow petting of his hands sooth him as well. At some point, exhaustion overcame them both, and they drifted off into a well earned sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter expressing his anger like this was a joy to write. I hope you liked it. hehe
> 
> So when Wade tops, he does Praise Kink. When Peter tops, he does Humiliation Kink. Fun times. XD All consensual, no worries!
> 
> I wanted to show how the "battle" is very different when Peter is working with Wade than how it would have been in the past as Spidey. Especially since Peter has more world experience now than he did as a teen. hehe
> 
> I'm gonna have to do some re-writes to arrange the next couple chapters the way I want. That might take some time. But next chapter is gonna cover what happened in Peter's past, and then after that we're picking up some new plot threads. So let's all look forward to that! Yay! hehe


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone said they was gonna fite me if I update this story again before updating Cheaper By The Three Dozen... *cue training montage*
> 
> Things you might wanna know for this chapter: there is a scene that happens in the actual comics, but I’m messing with it a lot. Spider-man goes to fight the newly created Doc Oc at a hospital, Spidey gets his ass kicked and sent packing. He later considers quitting, hears a speech at his school from Johnny Storm, gets inspired, goes back to being Spider-man. You’ll be able to pick out the parallels as we go along.
> 
>  
> 
> **Trigger warning: sexual assault**

Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed, and staring at the mask in his hands. It was late at night, in the quiet and dark hours of the morning where even the cacophony of New York City seems to soften, if only for a moment. There was shuffling behind him on the bed as Wade woke up in order to stare at the dark outline of Peter’s figure.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Wade mumbled as he wormed his way up the bed to grab a pillow.

“This mask isn’t a coincidence.” Peter’s voice was hushed in the still of the room.

“Are you askin’ ‘cause you want to know?”

Peter paused as he thought about that, considering if he really did want to know. The deciding factor was that not knowing would just drive him crazy. “Yes.”

“You still haven’t told me _your_ story. That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

“You could go first.”

Wade huffed a laugh. “Like hell. You’d never follow through.”

Well, Peter would be more angry about that if it wasn’t true. “And you will?”

“You know I will.”

It was somewhat annoying that Peter _did_ trust Wade to keep his word. It seemed so contradictory considering who Deadpool was. However, Peter had come to know _Wade_ , not just Deadpool, and that was significant. Wade was a surprisingly loyal and trustworthy person once he dedicated himself to a friendship.

And frankly, what was Peter hiding his past for in the first place? He hadn’t been a superhero long enough to even call that much attention to himself, or leave any enemies that held a grudge. It had been years already, and the world had forgotten about Spider-man.

Well, everyone but Wade had forgotten about Spider-man.

“You know,” Wade wheedled. “They say it helps to talk about it.”

Arms wound their way around Peter’s waist as Wade nuzzled his face into Peter’s low back. The weight of Wade’s body was oddly grounding. It helped anchor Peter to the present. Perhaps, just this once, in the still of early morning, Peter could talk about what happened without getting swept away in it.

“When I was fifteen,” Peter whispered. “I was bitten by a spider…”

 

~*~

 

It was the first time Peter was going out with his newly upgraded suit. It was far from perfect, but definitely better than the sweatpants and hoodie with its sharpied on spider he had been wearing previously. The new suit had an actual design to it, and was made of a fabric that better blocked his omega smell.

Also, the eyes on the mask were killer looking.

Technically, he’d worn this more professional looking suit before, but not since adding the designs to it. It had webs now to really played up the spider theme. That had been a bitch and a half to sew on with his lackluster skills.

At first, Peter had been _super_ reluctant to learn how to sew. After all, that was an “omega skill,” and he didn’t want to be associated with it. However, he couldn’t just take his concept into a shop and ask someone to make it for him. So it was that Peter had spent long nights on youtube, trying to figure out how a needle and thread worked.

It was all worth it now. He looked like a real hero as he swung through the buildings of NYC, focused on getting to his next fight. There would be cameramen everywhere, so he had to look his best. He also had to act his best, which was why he had taken a pill before heading out.

He hadn’t been having his heats for very long, and they were still erratic during puberty, but they weren’t anything to write home about. Distracting, a bit, due to how warm it made him feel, along with the low level horniness, but that wasn’t much out of the norm for a teenage boy.

What was important, was that he couldn’t let his heat slow him down if he planned on being a full time superhero. So he had popped a suppressant prior to leaving the house, and knew it should be in his system by the time he arrived at his destination. After all, this was his chance to enter the big leagues.

There was a hostage situation at a hospital. A scientist had been in an accident that fused machinery to his spine. He woke up addled and confused, and intent on finishing his experiments, forcing hospital staff to aid him. The police were at a standstill, and due to the machinery the guy was able to manipulate, all attempts to rescue the staff were thwarted.

That meant, they needed a hero. And Spider-man _was_ such a hero!

Peter knew who Dr. Octavius was — had studied some of the man’s findings, in fact. After such an accident, it made sense that the poor guy was a little disoriented. What he needed was someone on his level to help talk him down. Peter felt completely confident in his ability to do so.

Swinging into view of the news cameras outside the hospital, Peter made sure to really play up his agility as he landed near the upper floors of the building. He gave the people down below a thumbs up before forcing his way in through a window. He’d have this handled in no time. Maybe he could give an interview afterwards!

Finding the room that everyone was barricaded into wasn’t difficult. Getting inside was a breeze. Starting his negotiations, however, didn’t work out so well.

“Dr. Octavius! It’s an honor—”

“I SAID NO INTERRUPTIONS!”

Just like that, Peter was being attacked. The machinery was far more agile and flexible than Peter had been prepared for. They flew around him faster than his spidey sense could keep up with. His webbing practically felt useless when all he had were two hands to work with against four super strong robotic tentacles. Before he knew it, he was flying across the room and into a wall.

Peter hit the floor coughing, the world spinning around him. That hadn’t at all gone to plan. He should try talking again. “Please,” he wheezed out. “I’m here to help.”

“Idiots! You’re all idiots! I must do everything myself!”

“Then in that case,” Peter reasoned as he pulled himself up to his knees. “You don’t need these people here.”

“Their useless lives keep me from being interrupted!” Doc Oc snarled. “They will stay here until my work is complete!”

“I can help, ya know? Two people can finish things up faster.” Peter cautiously pulled himself to his feet. His entire body was throbbing and a fine tremor was working its way through his limbs. How hard had he been thrown?

“And let you take credit for my work?” Doc Oc scoffed. “Greedy, thieving betas, the lot of you! As if anyone would believe that you didn’t steal your findings from an alpha worth his salt!”

Well, _that_ was sexist. It really dropped Peter’s opinion of the man. “Have you eaten?” Peter asked, trying to distract the crazed man. “A mind works better when well fueled.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

Then Peter was fighting for his life again, dodging arms and getting smacked around like a rag doll. He was thrown out into the hallway at one point, rolling to a stop against a wall. He gasped for breath and realized he was sweating. He felt so overheated already. Was it the adrenaline?

Then he felt it, the slow leaking of something wet and slippery inside of him. _No, no, no, no, no! Why now? I took the suppressant!_

Except, he hadn’t been sick since the spider bite. His healing ability was through the roof. He was constantly starving for more food, but never gained weight. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what that meant. He was metabolizing things at an extreme rate. Which, of course, meant that the suppressant was practically useless in his system.

But so what? He was just going to run away to go back home and masturbate while there were lives at stake? No! He was a superhero, damn it, and he was going to act like one!

Getting back to his feet, Peter stumbled a little, but managed to get himself under control. He was stronger than his bodily urges. He could do this. So he pushed aside the feeling of being too hot and tried to think his way out of the situation. First, he needed to get the hostages away from the madman.

Peter managed to help two people make a run for it before he was overwhelmed again by a now _very_ angry Doc Oc, claiming that Peter was personally responsible for undermining the value of science. Reasoning with the man was clearly out of the question, so Peter did his best to fight, ignoring how disorienting it was for his body to try and attack while rapidly falling into heat.

Things were almost going well. He was beat up and his skin felt like it was on fire, but he had managed to web two of the arms together. Just as Peter was flipping out of the way, one of the other mechanical arms came out of nowhere and gripped Peter by the front of his suit and slung him down the hallway. He hit the wall at the end of it hard, his vision swimming.

It was at that moment everything went wrong. Peter’s suit had been ripped open, the spider design barely hanging on. The smell of his heat filled the room and Doc Oc started to laugh. Fear settled dark and heavy in Peter’s stomach, and he tried to stand up, but the world wouldn’t stop spinning.

Worse, he was producing even more slick. It was as if his body didn’t realize he was in a fight. As if it _liked_ being beat up, that it expected it, that it wanted more of it. Peter’s body was betraying his mind and his safety. He felt like crying, which only left him feeling all the more weak.

Doc Oc took a loud breath of air through his nose. “An omega!” He seemed to find the whole situation hilarious. “And so excited to see me! Is that what you really wanted? My alpha genius to fuck you?”

“No!” Peter tried to stand up and fell. His stomach turned and the world spun. It occurred to him that he likely had a concussion. “Please stop…” Peter whimpered, ashamed of himself.

“How dare you act as if you are on my level of intellect!” Doc Oc was suddenly furious, his mechanical arms thrashing around him and leaving holes on the walls of the hallway as he steadily made his way closer. “Worthless! You are _worthless_! I need no omega whore here to distract me!”

“Please… stop…” Peter panted, his vision swam as he looked past Doc Oc’s shoulder to another hostage making a run for it. “Just let them go…”

Like flipping a switch, Doc Oc was laughing again. “Helpless, useless omega. Can’t even take care of himself, and he wants to save others?” An arm shot out and ripped the rest of the symbol off on Peter’s chest, letting the scrap of cloth flutter to the ground in front of his face.

Was that true? That despite the spider bite giving him powers, Peter would still never be able to save someone? He’d come here looking to be a hero, and he was yet another victim. All because he was an omega incapable of doing anything except being useless. Wasn’t his body proving him right by saying that being wet and horny was the only thing he could manage?

Doc Oc stepped forward, eyes locked on the small man curled on the floor under him. Peter covered his bared skin with his hands, kicking his feet against the floor in an effort to scramble away. A wave of lust shot through him at the feeling of cool air against his skin and an alpha’s scent in the air. A base instinct flared, insistent on him being naked instead of in such confining clothes. It was horrible, how his body was reacting to the situation. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“Pitiful little omegas really _will_ beg for any cock they can find,” Doc Oc mused, and his lip curled in disgust. One of the arms clacked its claws as it moved closer.

“No! Stop!” Peter tried to roll over and crawl away, but something caught his foot and sent him hurtling back into the corner of the connecting hallways.

One of the vicious arms hovered in front of Peter’s face, the claws snapping ominously at him. Doc Oc’s face was a snarling blur behind it. “Perhaps my arm here will teach you a lesson about your wanton ways interrupting my work!”

“NO!”

Peter’s spidey sense was going off with near blinding intensity. He thrashed and fought as the mechanical arms sought to hold him down, screaming as they ripped apart more pieces of his suit. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Was this really what his superhero dreams would end with?

A high pitched whine filled the air, then a blasting noise, and then Peter was being jerked around in the air. After a few more disorienting stumbles, he was sailing through the air again before something caught him and carefully dropped him to the ground. Peter curled in on himself, panic and fear locking up his body, a concussion making it impossible to orient himself, the omega in him flooding his limbs with heat weakness.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, shivering and crying on the floor, pulled tight into a fetal position. The sounds of fighting around him were muffled by the rushing of blood in his ears. Fear was a constant, heavy thing in this chest, constricting his breath.

And all the while, traitorous slick leaked from his ass, begging any and all to partake in his _helpless, useless_ self.

_“Can’t even take care of himself, and he wants to save others?”_

Peter clutched his sides and wailed, trying to drown out the words still echoing around in his head, making a mockery of everything he had been trying to accomplish. Making Uncle Ben’s words pointless in the face of anyone with the ill luck to be born an omega.

Something touched Peter’s arm and he immediately started trying to fight it off, flailing around blindly and sobbing out incoherent words.

“Hey, kid, calm down,” an oddly mechanical voice soothed. “It’s just me. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Blinking away tears, Peter looked up to see Iron Man, his childhood hero, hovering over him, bearing witness to the most humiliating moment of Peter’s life. There was no way Peter would ever be able to rise up to be a superhero in the eyes of Iron Man now. Or anyone that Iron Man knew. They would all be aware of it. Of how _worthless, helpless, useless_ he was. Peter sobbed.

“It’s okay. Calm down. Just breathe.”

As if those words could help what was happening. The more Iron Man talked, the more Peter cried. He’d never be able to face Iron Man again. Never be able to look at Tony Stark on TV. Never be able to read about the inventions Stark Industries created. Because if he did, he’d be reminded of this day, in all its bright and terrifying detail.

“I’m gonna give you a shot of something. It’ll stop your heat.”

Peter moaned in pain. He didn’t want to hear _Iron Man_ talking about how excited his body had been to almost get r—

“Just stay here until it backs off. I’ve gotta handle the bad guy over there and then I’ll help take you home.”

No! That would be so much worse! Peter shook his head rapidly, unable to stop crying. He just wanted to get away. He wanted to escape and never have to face the man again in his life. Something sharp pierced his skin, derailing his thoughts, and he jerked violently.

“Shhh, it’s just the shot,” Iron Man informed. “Listen, you can’t be out here like this in the middle of your heat. It’s dangerous. He could have…” But the sentence wasn’t finished. Not that it needed to be. They both knew exactly what could have happened.

Iron Man sighed, and it sounded odd through the speakers of his helmet. “Just stay there. I’ll be back as soon as I can to help patch you up and get you home. Okay, kid?”

The clanking of boots signaled Iron Man’s departure. Peter’s entire body shook with relief. He didn’t want anyone to see him. He didn’t want his personal hero seeing how low he’d fallen. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

Peter opened his eyes to see the scrap of fabric holding the spider symbol on it in front of him. It was torn, tattered, and dirty. How appropriate. He reached out gripped it tight in one trembling fist. He couldn’t leave it behind. It would look like a totem to his shame.

The moment his healing factor and whatever it was he’d been given settled his body enough to move, Peter scrambled into a supply closet, covered himself in spare scrubs, and then immediately made his way back home. He spent the next three days hiding in his bed, jumping at every little noise, terrified it was either Doc Oc or Iron Man. Both options were just as bad.

Aunt May had been so worried, and did everything possible to get Peter back out of bed. “You know the Human Torch _himself_ is giving a speech at your school. You really want to miss that?”

Yes, he did. Peter didn’t want to see _any_ superhero ever again. In fact, he didn’t want to see the world at all. He hated it. He hated himself. He hated what he was. He hated how he was born. He hated how his body worked. Just about the only thing he didn’t hate, was Aunt May.

Every time Peter caught a glimpse of his torn suit, fear lanced through him, followed by bitterness, pain, and shame. At long last, he gave in to the inevitable. He took it all out to a grimy alleyway, doused it in gasoline, and lit it on fire. He’d spent a long time staring at the scrap of cloth that held the symbol he’d worked so hard on designing. With bile creeping up his throat, he tossed it into the flames and watched until it was nothing more than ashes.

Eventually, Peter did go back to school. He drifted through his classes, barely able to focus. Being a superhero, creating things in the garage, helping out around the house, keeping up with his homework, and getting any kind of adequate sleep had been tough, but he had almost kept on top of it. Now, with nothing but school to focus on, Peter was barely scraping by.

At the end of his junior year he was pulled into career counseling.

“Look, Peter, you’re smart. No, you’re far more than just smart, and we both know it. But you’re throwing it away by not taking your classes seriously.”

Peter sighed and sank back further into his chair. “Throwing what away? I’m an omega.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t even try that with me.” The counselor leaned forward, giving Peter a stern look. “People who fight against the unfairness of this world make a difference. If you can prove that you are able to be up there with all the greats, regardless of your gender, then it’s not just you who wins. You can help to inspire thousands of omegas to follow in your footsteps, and change the minds of everyone around you. You _are_ more than your gender, Peter, and we both know that.”

Something thick and stuffy filled Peter’s throat and he tried to swallow through it. “I can’t afford university, and only community colleges and tech schools will take omegas — on limited courses.”

“Then we just have to get you a scholarship.”

Peter scoffed. “Like they’ll take me.”

“They’ll take you if you have the best grades in the entire state of New York. You can do this. Let me help you get there.”

So, lacking any other noble ideals to distract him, Peter devoted himself to his studies. He aced every class he had during his senior year, did every extracurricular activity available that would look good on a resume, and made the highest scores in the state on the standardized tests. He spent weeks agonizing over the submission letter to his dream college.

And in the end, it worked. By some miracle, he’d been offered a full ride. Everyone had been so happy. Registering for classes had been the most exciting moment of his life to date. He told Harry about his goal to become a scientist, working with the best minds in the business, seeking a cure for the genetic disease in Harry’s family.

Then, three days before classes started, Peter was sent an urgent letter. He’d lost his scholarship. They stated that since Peter was already registered for classes, he could go, so long as he was able to pay for them. However, student loan companies worked under caveats that said they could prioritize loans based on the student’s ability to repay after receiving their degree.

Omegas had a cap that prevented them from receiving more funds than was necessary to educate them in fields that would hire them. Peter’s dreams were seen as too much of a risk. They believed that Peter would never be hired once he graduated.

In a bout of anger, Peter hacked the system at the college to see why his free ride had been denied. Apparently, there was an alpha who had decent grades, but grew up in an impoverished neighborhood. He’d been offered a tentative internship at a big company if he could get the education to back it. The situation meant better press — and the potential for more money in the future — for the college, so Peter’s scholarship was overturned in favor of the alpha with seemingly guaranteed success.

There was an email in the trail Peter had found. One with the line, “Besides, omegas waste their education the minute they get married.”

It was too late to apply to any other university. They had cut off any chance for Peter to succeed.

That was the day that Peter realized what the world was really like. That was the day he was completely and utterly broken beyond repair.

 

~*~

 

Peter watched as the mask slipped through his fingers and onto the floor. Something hot and wet dropped onto his hand. A tear. Oh, he was crying. Damn. How weak was he still? After everything, he was still just a useless omega that cried at everything.

Strong arms pulled Peter down onto the bed, turned him over, and wrapped around him. He hated how safe and content he felt, burying his face into the broad chest that smelled of alpha. Honestly, one would think he was too broken to feel anything anymore.

“No matter what life throws at you, you’re always trying to be the hero,” Wade pointed out, voice warm with affection and approval.

“And failed,” Peter argued, throat thick with tears.

“That’s not true. How many people did you save while you were Spider-man? Those people needed help, and you were there for them.”

Peter sniffed, trying to force the memories away. “Did you know who I was from the beginning?”

“No. It was random chance that caused me to find you. I just thought you were the basic run of the mill mutant until you stuck yourself to the ceiling that day. That’s when I got suspicious.”

“How do you even know who I am?”

“Story time! So I told you that I was dishonorably discharged, right?”

“Yes.”

“Did I tell you why?”

“No…”

“I was in special ops. We got all kinds of shady orders. You get used to ‘em after a while. So getting an order like ‘leave no witnesses’ was pretty common. Except, this time, the witnesses were an entire village of peaceful people, in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Peter sucked in a breath.

“I wasn’t about to kill any babies. I got morals in me somewhere. So I walked away and got kicked out. Problem was, I wasn’t very smart, hadn’t actually graduated high school in the first place, and didn’t have a lot of job options. So me and my handful of morals and barrel full of very specific skills hit the road and took any jobs I could get.”

“That’s how you became a mercenary?”

“Not exactly. I was just going around scaring stalkers, roughing people up if they missed out on a loan payment, stealing what people needed to win court battles. Stuff like that. I met a fine gal, almost settled down for a bit with her, was thinking about getting serious.”

“What happened?”

“I got cancer. In our search for a cure that doesn’t exist, the military popped back up and offered just such an impossible cure, provided I take part in some experiments to make me into an ultra badass soldier.”

“Weren’t you worried they would send you back out on those missions?” Peter quietly asked.

“I was. I almost didn’t do it. I figured if anyone was gonna get turned into a super, it should be someone with better moral values than me. I was tainted, ya see. Unsaveable.”

“Your girlfriend changed your mind?”

“No. You did.”

Peter stiffened. “What?”

“There I was, watching TV, and some little guy in a suit was swinging through NYC, bein’ a hero. Except, he wasn’t like the other heroes, backed by the government, or big money, or secret organizations to take care of the crazy shit. Nah, he was just someone looking out for the little guy. Stopping thieves that tried to rob corner stores or taxi drivers. Making sure omegas got home safely at night. Fuck, helping little old ladies across the road. He was almost gag worthy in how damn perfect he was.”

Peter shivered as he thought about that. It was odd hearing himself described by an outsider. How Wade viewed Spider-man, and the things he remembered, were far different than what Peter assumed anyone would.

“So I said to myself: Self, we’re gonna go out there and get our superpowers and use them for good, just like Spidey. We’re gonna be a hero.” Wade squeezed Peter a little tighter. “But I was the first one to survive the experiments, if you can call what they did to me surviving. I burned the whole place down for good measure.”

“You said you went crazy.”

“I did. They fucked up my brain. The cancer probably didn’t help that any. Took a long time to even remember what my name was or why I was so skilled at things. To this day, I keep finding out stuff I don’t even know that I know.”

“That’s terrible…” Peter whispered.

“Then one day, I just suddenly remembered you. So I went to New York to find you. But… Spider-man was gone and people acted like they didn’t even know who you were. For a while, I thought I had hallucinated the whole thing. But then I found newspaper clippings and old youtube videos of you. You’d been there, and then suddenly, you weren’t there anymore. There was only one possible outcome: life had shit on you, just like life does to everyone.

“And for a long time, I thought it was pointless to try and be better than I was. Life was awful, the people in it were awful, and it ruined the only good thing I’d ever found in it. I may as well fit in and be awful with them, right?”

It seemed so impossible that Peter had caused such a response from someone. That Spider-man’s existence and then lack of it had meant so much. Did that really make Deadpool that much worse than everyone else? He had just learned to accept who he was in a world that didn’t care about anyone. Maybe people just didn’t like the mirror Deadpool held up to them.

“I’m glad I found you, though,” Wade said happily as he dropped a kiss on top of Peter’s head.

“Why?”

“Because you needed someone to help you find another way. So here I am.” Wade scooted back enough to hook his fingers under Peter’s chin, and pull it up to create eye contact. “Be True Neutral with me, Spidey. Let’s help the brothels, steal from the rich, and only save the world if we got the time.”

“You really think it’s gonna work that easy?”

“Why not? I’ve been doing it for years. You don’t really wanna go back to selling your ass for a living, do you, Neko?”

“Cev—” Peter cut himself off from his usual correction, and instead, broke that most important rule. “Peter. My name’s Peter.”

Wade grinned so wide that his teeth practically glowed in the dim light of the room. “I look forward to our partnership together, Petey.”

“Are you incapable of addressing anyone without a nickname?”

“You’ve discovered my one true weakness!”

Peter snorted and shoved his hand against Wade’s chest. Stupid Wade, making Peter smile after such a serious conversation. Stupid Wade, for believing in what Spider-man stood for after all these years. Stupid Wade, for making Peter believe this was something he could do.

Fingers brushed along Peter’s cheek. He tilted his head up willingly and let soft lips brush along his. When Wade kissed, when he ran his fingers along Peter’s bare skin, when he pulled them closer together, Peter returned it.

In Wade’s arms, Peter felt like he truly was worth more than the money that bought him for the night. When he kissed Wade, it felt like excitement rather than resentment. Wade’s hands made Peter feel cared for rather than owned. Being with Wade left Peter craving more, instead of dreading the next experience.

Stupid Wade, making Peter feel things again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A looooot of fics write omegas as completely blind to their partners during heat. So what did I do? Showed the horror of being aware of your mind when your body is out of control. Why, me? Why?
> 
> Anywho, this is the dark past that Peter has been hiding from and why things turned out the way they did. Thank goodness Wade is there to help Peter through this emotional time. <3
> 
> Next chapter will be a time jump. I should complete the things that are happening prior to posting another chapter, but we all know what my self control looks like. heh So I have no idea when the next chapter update will be. Probably a lot sooner than I should. XD


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> The amazing [Bexorz](https://bexorz.tumblr.com/) drew my merc!Peter outfit! I LOOOOOVE it! He looks so perfect! *swoon*
> 
> (I have spoken to this artist, discussed this with them, have permission from them to show this picture, have permission to talk about this picture, have permission to note and link to the artist who drew it, and am in continuous contact with this artist. Thank you.)

Peter went careening into the house, stumbling over his own feet in excitement. It was still morning, so Aunt May was not expecting him to be awake yet. She gaped at him and his rumpled clothes as he charged into the kitchen, one hand placed over her heart.

“Goodness, Peter! What’s going on? Were you out all night?”

Not even bothering to answer, Peter ran up to May, put them into dancing position and started waltzing her around the kitchen. She laughed, pleased to see him in such good spirits, something he rarely was the past few years.

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you going to dance with me all morning?”

“Both!” Peter said with a grin. He twirled her away before bowing over her hand. When he stood back up, he pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. “I played the lottery!”

Aunt May blinked. “You what?”

Peter handed over the ticket with his payout information on it. “I didn’t win-win, but I still won a decent amount!”

She blinked down at it in shock for a long time before whispering, “Ten thousand dollars?”

“Ten thousand dollars!” Peter cried happily.

“Oh, my! Oh, goodness! Peter!” Aunt May was beside herself as she pulled Peter into an excited hug. “What are you going to do with it?”

Peter pulled back and gripped at May’s arms with a huge grin. “You’re going to Hawaii.”

Aunt May gaped. “Peter, no! This is _your_ money, I couldn’t possibly… It would cost nearly half of that just to go!”

“This is more than enough to buy some things I’ve had my eye on. _Please_ let me do this for you.” Peter put on his best pleading eyes.

“Now don’t give me that look!”

Peter cranked it up a notch and added a little lip quiver.

“There are better things this could be spent on!”

“Absolutely not!” Peter argued. “The best thing in the world to spend it on is _you_.”

May teared up and huffed at Peter, unable to get out any further words. She pulled him into a hug once more, dropping a big smack of a kiss on his cheek for good measure. “You’re the best son anyone could ever ask for.”

Peter pretended like that didn’t choke him up as well. “I love you, Aunt May.”

“I love you, too!” She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, tears hovering on her eyelashes. “I haven’t been on a vacation in years…”

“You’re going to Hawaii,” Peter said, grinning wide.

“I’m going to Hawaii…” she repeated, voice soft with wonder.

“You’re going to Hawaii!”

“I’m going to Hawaii!”

They collapsed into giggles and hugs and more dancing around the kitchen. Later Peter would surprise her with a brand new luggage set to travel with, and she would scold him for spending even more money on her. The look of wonder and excitement on her face was totally worth it, though.

 

~*~

 

“So if you need me, I’ll be here to take the bad Johns, though that shouldn’t be too much of a concern anymore. Otherwise, I’ll be focusing all my time on a single client.”

Alex had her arms folded across her chest, one finger tapping at her elbow as she considered Peter. It was obvious she didn’t quite trust his new business plan. “Does this have something to do with you two disappearing for hours on end during the night?”

“He likes to switch up locations…” Peter dodged.

“Or how Jason has been walking around in a daze because some mysterious benefactor paid for his sister’s medical treatment?”

Peter looked away, unable to keep eye contact for that one. “Oh? That’s great to hear…”

“I can’t just stick my head in the sand if you’re getting yourself in some kind of trouble.”

“It’s fine, I promise. I know what I’m doing.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

Peter looked over to give her a half smile. “Nothing more dangerous than selling my body to alphas.”

Alex gave him a conflicted look and Peter immediately regretted saying it.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean it like that. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“I get it, Peter. I do.” Alex sighed, her eyes going unfocused around her rapid thoughts. “You gotta do what you can to survive in this world…” After a moment, she refocused back on Peter. “That doesn’t mean I’m not constantly worried about all of you getting hurt. I can only do so much to protect you, and only then if you’ll let me.”

“I know…”

“I realize this isn’t anyone’s dream life, so I’m not going to stop you from pursuing other avenues, just… Don’t get yourself killed, alright?”

“I’ll be careful,” Peter promised.

“I’m holding you to that.”

 

~*~

 

Peter preferred staying close to the brothel in case he was needed. Thus, his training sessions often ended up taking place on the roofs of the surrounding buildings. Wade had procured special paint filled bullets to practice with. They stung like a son of a bitch, but they didn’t break the skin. It was Peter’s job to learn how to keep one step ahead of the firepower.

The problem was, Wade didn’t hold back. His theory was, that if Peter could learn how to win against a fight with Deadpool, he could win against a fight with anyone. Wade wasn’t satisfied unless Peter made it to the end of a session without a single bit of paint on him. That very, very, very rarely happened.

This also meant that Peter lost a lot of the games, since the stakes had moved from sex to training. It definitely made Peter more motivated to win during the matches, and Wade would push Peter’s boundaries during his requests afterwards to keep Peter trying harder.

This was why Peter was currently on his knees, with Wade’s cock buried in his throat. Attached to his nipples were clamps, connected by a chain. The middle of that chain was connected to a tight cock ring at the base of Wade’s dick. If Peter pulled back, the chain would tug at his abused nipples. If Peter pushed forward for what relief there was to be found, it meant choking on the cock in his mouth.

This lead, of course, to Peter alternating between sinking down to stop the tugging and pulling back to breathe. The circumstances of his predicament forced his mouth to fuck Wade. Peter flexed his hands repeatedly from where they were bound behind his back, trying to stay focused.

For the other problem was, that the pain and submission was making Peter somewhat loopy, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. That wouldn’t have been enough to compromise him normally, but his damnable newfound praise kink _was_. The more Wade talked, the more Peter got lost to the fuzzy spiraling headspace that was happening to him.

“You’re so perfect like this.” Wade’s voice was soothing and almost melodic, like it was trying to hypnotize Peter. In a way, it was succeeding. “I love watching you overcome the odds and win.”

It said something about Peter’s personality that things like that would send pleasure shooting up his spine. He pulled back for air and grunted at the warm pain that tugged at his chest. It caused spit to burble around his lips. Wade ran a finger along Peter’s already glistening chin.

“How pretty…” he mused.

Peter probably looked like a destroyed mess — flushed, covered in drool, his hair sweaty, body straining under the debasing position. Yet, hearing Wade say that those things Peter normally should have been embarrassed about, ashamed over, were somehow treasures that Wade sounded in awe over… It was like a drug, sending Peter’s mind spiraling high on endorphins.

One scarred hand slowly brushed through Peter’s hair, pulling it back to allow Wade a better look Peter’s now glassy eyes. “Has anyone told you how breathtaking you look? How no matter what you do, you still look like a work of art? You should be told that every day of your life.”

Peter moaned and his eyelashes fluttered. Normally, when Wade went too far in his praises, Peter would shut it down, unable to handle such elaborate words. But currently, he wasn’t able to retaliate. All he could do was sit there and listen, allowing the words to spiral through his body in a rush of arousal.

“Fuck, you’re irresistible. I could be inside you every day for the rest of my life and not get enough of you.”

Peter shivered and struggled for air. He shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t want these words. But _oh_ how good they felt. His eyes unfocused as he methodically moved his head back and forth, finding a rhythm that allowed him to breathe. The pain, the tension, the struggle for air, the pleasure of the words, the heat of his skin, it all blended into something so thick he could drown in it.

“So good,” Wade breathed. “You’re so good.”

Thoughts were as thick as syrup, and when Peter blinked, it felt like slow motion. His limbs were loose around him, no longer straining or fighting, just following along with what was happening. He let suffuse him, take him over, fill him up.

“Are you ready for me to fuck your throat now?” Wade asked.

Peter nodded as best he could in his position. Wade taking over felt like the best idea in the world. Peter just wanted to sit there and feel and take and melt.

Gentle hands gripped Peter’s head and locked him into position. Peter rolled his eyes up to see the bulk of Wade hovering over him. Wade looked just as drunk as Peter felt. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for Wade to take over. With a content growl, Wade did so.

It was far more intense with Wade going as fast as he pleased. Peter struggled not to gag as cock scraped at the insides of his throat. His chest felt warm, a constant ache spreading out from where the clamps were jerked on over and over again. His body involuntarily twitched this way and that in protest, but Wade’s strong hands kept Peter in place. Spit and tears dripped down his face with abandon.

“You’re so amazing,” Wade panted. “So strong to keep up with this.”

Peter gagged but forced himself to relax. Wade moaned deep in his chest at the feeling, his hips picking up the pace. The metal links of the cuffs on Peter’s wrists clinked as his arms jerked, automatically wanting to push Wade away in order to breathe properly.

“Just a little more,” Wade encouraged. “You can do it.”

With great strength of will, Peter forced his body to settle down and his throat to stay open. His eyes unfocused as his mind spiraled away from him. He was dizzy, but Wade’s hands kept him from falling. It was so much easier to accomplish such hard tasks with Wade there to help.

“Yes, just like that, so good… You’re so strong…”

Wade hissed and thrust forward far enough that his balls pressed up against Peter’s chin. He shuddered and twitched, desperately wanting to cum, but the tight cock ring held it back, only allowing a small trickle of precum. Wade held the position as long as he dared before he took two quick steps back, yanking the clamps off Peter’s nipples in a single solid jerk.

Peter cried out and doubled over, coughing and gasping for air and his body trembled from the flare of pain mixed with the oxygen he had been struggling for. There was a clatter of noise as the clamps and cock ring dropped to the floor. Then Wade was kneeling in front of Peter, pulling the shivering form into the broad expanse of Wade’s embrace.

“You did it. You were amazing. So good. So, _so_ good.”

The words left Peter a boneless mess, leaning entirely on Wade for support. His body hummed with pleasure and satisfaction. He enjoyed succeeding. He loved beating the odds when they were against him. And secretly, he felt such deep satisfaction when he pleased Wade.

The cuffs holding Peter’s wrists in place fell away. He was scooped up into strong arms and carried to the bed. Wade was careful and almost reverent, settling Peter down in the sheets like he was made of glass. It was a stark contrast to how hard he would take Peter. Selfishly, Peter loved both of the ways he was treated.

“Are you ready for a reward?”

Peter nodded as best he could, humming in happiness at the idea of receiving a gift. His legs were easily lifted and placed onto Wade’s shoulders. His body folded itself without protest. Wade’s arms coming down on either side of Peter’s head to cage him in felt like safety. When that textured and throbbing cock slid inside of Peter, his jaw dropped in a silent scream, his head digging back into the mattress.

“That feel good, Baby Boy? That what you needed?”

Peter whined in response, his hands clawing desperately at Wade’s skin.

“It’s okay to want this. It’s okay to enjoy it. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

Before Peter’s mind could process those words, Wade was slamming into Peter’s with abandon. That time, Peter did make noise, punctuated by the force of Wade’s hips meeting his ass. That low burn of arousal inside of him, the dull ache of pain still lingering, spiked to abrupt and cloying pleasure.

Peter thrashed his head around, needing some kind of outlet for the very sudden and strong sensation. However, Wade didn’t seem to like that. One hand made it’s way into the hair at the base of Peter’s skull and pulled his head to a stop, forcing Peter to face Wade’s intense gaze.

“I want to see you. I want to watch your face as you feel me. I want to see how you look when you're desperate for release.”

Peter whined and his back arched, his torso writhing around as Wade unrelentingly hit all the spots that drove Peter crazy. Still, Wade’s grip was strong and unforgiving. Peter’s face stayed within view, and the reverence in Wade’s eyes was too much to bear. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to think about all the things Wade was divining from Peter’s drunkenly desperate face.

It wasn’t long before that buildup happened inside of him, tightening his belly, sending fire through his veins. He was desperate for more. Wanted to seek out relief that had been delayed for so long already. He tried to voice that but it came out guttural and nonsensical. Apparently, Wade spoke that language.

“You want it that bad already?”

“Yes!” Peter gasped.

“Take it. Touch yourself.”

Peter didn’t have to be told twice. His hand shot to his dick immediately, setting up an insistent pace, seeking relief as soon as possible. His chest rumbled with relief, his stomach quivering with anticipation. The weight of Wade’s gaze was a heavy thing that Peter was aware of even through his closed eyes.

“That’s it,” Wade growled. “Take it. You look so fucking hot like this.”

Why did Wade have to say such things? Why did his voice sound like Peter was somehow special instead of a dime a dozen whore?

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so hot. Look at your face. Look at how much you want it.”

Peter tried to turn his face away, but Wade’s grip kept it in place. He panted for breath, the tense need in his stomach reaching a high point. His hand sped across himself with abandon. Wade murmured encouraging things that Peter couldn’t even focus on enough to make sense of.

With a snap of Wade’s hips, Peter was tumbling over the edge. It felt electric somehow, spreading through all of his nerve endings like static. He shivered at the intensity of it, warm wet strips of his own ejaculate painting his stomach.

“There it is…” Wade breathed, enthralled as he watched Peter. “The beautiful agony of a tiny death.”

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, meeting intense blue ones in a daze. Wade slammed home again, forcing Peter’s face to contort in a myriad of ways at how sensitive that felt. With the high of release still making Peter loopy, he could appreciate what Wade was seeing.

Wade’s face as it tensed and slackened, the way he looked desperate, in pain, in ecstasy, and blissed out in various stages and combinations. It was something intimate and private, almost too embarrassing to look at, yet too fascinating to look away from. It transformed Wade’s scarred face into a work of art.

When Wade pressed into Peter and paused, gritting his teeth and grunting his release, Peter found his fingers moving of their own accord. They brushed across the planes of Wade’s face, tracing that look of mingled joy and pain.

“How pretty…” Peter mused, voice wispy and drunken.

The statement caused something vulnerable and broken to flash across Wade’s face. He immediately hid his expression away in the crook of Peter’s neck. Peter let his legs ease down to cross over Wade’s back, his arms slid around Wade’s shoulders, one hand cupping the back of the scarred head.

They stayed that way for a long moment, breathing each other in and floating on that soft cloud of satisfied urges. Whether or not Peter felt warm tears drip onto his shoulder was never spoken of.

 

~*~

 

Peter took a chance and sent a text to Harry, letting him know that Peter was free for the night. Wade was still out on a mission in another country doing things Peter didn’t want to know about. In the meantime, he was just waiting to hear from a few of their local marks to see if things got bad enough for them to call in the big guns.

Since all was still silent, and the brothel was as safe as it had been since Wade had first shown up, Peter was bored. It was a long shot, trying to get time with Harry, which was why he was so surprised when he received a call.

“I don’t know if I’m up for going out to dinner tonight,” Harry said, voice sounding beyond exhausted.

“I was thinking more of a night in. Pizza and bad movies?” Peter all but held his breath as Harry mulled it over. “C’mon, Harry. For old time’s sake. Just a single night to relax and not think about anything else.”

Harry breathed out a laugh. “Yeah… It does sound nice…”

Peter grinned. “Then don’t skimp out on the toppings, I’ll be there in no time.”

There was a defeated groan on the other end of the line. “ _Fine_. I’ll let security know you’re coming.”

It was a fun night. Despite the bags under Harry’s eyes and the secrets Peter knew he couldn’t confide, they goofed off and provided loud commentary to the actors on the screen. It was nice, like a moment out of time, where they could be carefree teenagers again without worrying about the problems of the world.

Everything went well until Harry received a call. His good mood vanished in an instant. He stood up and paced away before answering, but he was unaware of how good Peter’s hearing was.

“Hey, Dad. Everything okay?” Harry asked with false cheer.

“Nothing’s been okay since I’ve been locked up in this room. The nurse is trying to kill me, and my damn assistant is useless.” Norman sounded angry and gruff, unlike the man Peter had met in his past.

“You gotta let them do their jobs. Everyone’s there to help.”

“They hell they are. If you weren’t such an idiot, you’d be screening them better.”

Harry took a deep breath, and with a surprisingly calm voice, asked, “Was there something you needed?”

“I was notified you let a whore up to your room.”

Peter gritted his teeth and Harry tensed up completely. Just because Peter _did_ sell himself for money, didn’t mean he liked it when people automatically assumed that was the case. Harry’s voice was forcefully happy when he responded. “I did have a guest drop by, yeah. You remember Peter Parker, from high school.”

“That damned omega again. I thought you had grown up enough to tell when people are trying to use you for your money.”

“He’s doing great!” Harry replied with over enthusiastic cheer. “He asks about you a lot.”

“Oh, I just bet he does. Get your head out of your ass, Harry. If you’re going to be taking people to your room, it should be someone worth talking about in the papers, not some omega prostitute scandal waiting to happen.”

“Yeah, you sound tired. Get some rest. I’ll say hi to Peter for you.”

“This is what I get for having a beta as a son.”

“Love you, too. Goodnight.”

Harry ended the call in the middle of an angry tirade on the other side. He muted the phone before putting it back in his pocket. By the time he turned back around, there was a smile on his face that almost looked believable.

“Dad says hi. He’s sorry he missed you.”

Peter put a smile onto his face in return. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah…” Harry walked back over to fall bonelessly back onto the couch. “Same old, same old. He’s really addled these days…”

“I’m sorry to hear that…” Peter looked away, trying not to think about the past. A single phone call had ruined their night of forgetting their troubles. Hearing Norman spout such things about Peter hurt. He had suspected it, but the man had always been polite to Peter’s face. The reality of the situation was not something he enjoyed knowing.

“He wants me to get married,” Harry confessed, dropping his head back against the cushions.

Peter raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t think you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh…”

A bitter laugh fell from Harry’s lips. “He keeps trying to set me up on dates with alphas. Says it’ll be best for the company to marry in someone strong so that the Board will take me seriously.”

Peter gaped. “But… What about _your_ preferences?”

Not once in all their friendship had Peter seen Harry date someone male. He was a boob man, as it happened, which was rather noticeable when looking his secretary. It was easy to guess that Harry didn’t have the option to search for a female alpha (uncommon as they may be). Norman refused to employ any omegas or any female alphas. They were considered an “old fashioned family company” and thus it let them get away with a lot of sexist hiring policies

“My preferences don’t really come into play. I’m supposed to marry for the company and eventually adopt an appropriate alpha child _for the company_.”

“ _Jeeze_ , Harry…”

Harry ran a hand through his hair before seeming to shake off his bad mood. He looked over at Peter with a smirk. “You remember that time we ran off to Vegas after graduation?”

Peter scoffed. “Do I? You lost so much money gambling, I thought your dad was going to fly out _just_ to kick your ass.”

That had been right after Peter had lost his scholarship. He’d been so depressed that Harry had practically kidnapped Peter and forced him into an impromptu vacation to lift his spirits. It had ended up one big drunken blur of night clubs, failed gambling, and too much room service, in Peter’s memory, but it had effectively distracted him from the world, if only for those few days.

“Sometimes I wish we could hop on the jet and run away like that again,” Harry admitted.

Peter grinned. “I think you’ve earned the right to a vacation.”

“Oh, I _know_ I have.”

They spent the rest of the night reminiscing over the last of the pizza, taking a vacation in the form of their memories. Peter just hoped it was enough of a break to help lift Harry’s mood, even if just a little bit.

 

~*~

 

“You friends with the Osborns, or you aiming to be a high class call boy now?” Wade asked abruptly.

Peter looked away from his computer to blink at Wade who was lounging on his couch and cleaning one of his giant guns. “You stalking me now?”

“Just keeping an eye out for potential trouble.”

“Uh-huh…” Peter focused back on his typing. “Anyways, Harry and I went to highschool together. We barely see each other these days, but we’re still friends.”

“So should I take them off the watch list?”

Peter’s fingers froze mid keystroke. The “watch list” was a list of alphas that had a good chance of needing Deadpool’s services, but in such a way that Peter would be willing to help. If the Osborns were on the list…

“Why…” Peter paused, unsure if he really wanted the details, but his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Daddy Osborn seemed to think himself invincible some years back. He tried to put himself above every crime boss in the city, like he was attempting to one up Kingpin or some shit. Anywho, that bit him in the ass, obviously, so he holed himself away under the pretense of getting sick.”

“Does Harry know?” Peter asked, voice barely audible.

“It’d be weird if he didn’t. Frankly, that’s probably why he’s keeping you at arm’s length. The night you popped over there being the exception, since there was a big meeting happening at the time. Nobody was looking for potential blackmail options that night. He probably knew that, too.”

Peter’s lips felt numb and his fingers cold. If Harry was being pulled into all of that… No wonder he was so worn out… “What can we—”

“Don’t.” Wade’s voice was hard and brooked no argument. He set his weapon down and jumped up off the couch to walk over to Peter. “This isn’t your fight, and there’s nothing you can accomplish by getting involved.”

“I can’t just leave Harry to—”

“He knows what he’s doing better than you do. They have experience with those kinds of people and know how to negotiate their way out of it. Do you?” Wade wrapped arms around Peter’s shoulders, leaning down to sit his chin on top of Peter’s head. “I love you being a hero, but you can’t save everyone.”

Peter's hands slid into his lap as his eyes went distant. “I’m not a hero,” Peter whispered.

“You could be,” Wade pointed out. “People are starting to notice the unknown masked person working with the nefarious Deadpool. I’m sure any hero out there would love to save you from me. If you nab one of the rich ones you could—”

“No!” Peter closed his eyes and tried to breathe through his sudden panic, shoving thoughts of Iron Man forcibly out of his head.

“Why not?” Wade asked.

“You know why not.”

“I doubt Tin Man even remembers you.”

“ _No_ , Wade.” Peter sighed and brought one hand up to grip at Wade’s arm. “Besides… You’re right. Other than breaking the law to catch people that will just be released days later without properly obtained evidence, nothing I can do will help.”

“Which is why it’s easier being on the bad side of the law.”

“I suppose…” Peter leaned his head back against Wade.

“So do you want to take them off the list?”

Peter thought about the phone call with Norman and the harsh words he had said. If he wasn’t just an addled old man with a disease, and instead was a pompous alpha who just hated omegas… Anger flared through Peter’s system. He’d been so focused on curing the Osborn’s rare disease in the past, and had felt such guilt over his failures. Was any of that real? Had there ever been a genetic disease, or was it all just a cover prepared in case things went south?

All of the Osborn’s troubles, all of Harry’s stress, all of Peter’s guilt… In the end, it was because of Norman’s egotistical greed. Did Peter even know them at all? What all was Harry hiding from the world? Was he going to just go along and let himself be wrapped up in criminal dealings?

If so, then it’d be best if Peter kept an eye on him — to either discover the truth, or to protect Harry from Norman’s machinations. At the very least, Peter wouldn’t feel bad taking Norman’s money if they were ever called in.

Peter’s voice was bitter as he thought about the harsh things Norman had said about _the manipulative omega whore_ that Harry still spoke to. “No… Keep them on the list.”

Wade laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to hide the money trail, Peter wasn’t able to just say he won 100k even with the fake lotto ticket Wade helped Peter create. That why Peter is using some of the money under the table, and only let Aunt May know about a portion of it.
> 
> The bullets they use to train with are based on bullets my sister trained with in the Navy. They look like actual bullets (except see through and filled with paint), and they certainly feel like you’ve been shot, but they just leave a little splatter of paint and a bruise behind.
> 
> “The beautiful agony of a tiny death.” Beautiful Agony is a website that shows you only people’s faces as they masturbate to orgasm. La Petite Mort means The Little Death and is French slang for “orgasm”.
> 
> Originally, in the comics, that’s how Norman Osborn played it. After getting a bunch of crime bosses working for him, he decided to prove his worth and have them take out a superhero. He chose Spider-man. They failed and shit happened and Norman went crazy and BAM Green Goblin. Thus, if Spider-man wasn’t a thing, Green Goblin never would have existed.
> 
> I know I haven't mentioned it since Chapter 1 (lulz sorry), but female alphas are just as rare as male omegas. However, in NYC, the population density, and the fact that it's a city where so many people of different walks of life gather, the possibility for male omegas and female alphas will be a lot higher than it would in other more suburban locations.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: sexual assault, violence**

It had been a few months since Peter started working with Deadpool. Occasionally, the news would catch a blurry picture of Peter’s costume or gain an eyewitness report. People were asking who he could be, trying to get a good enough view of him to label him with a name. Nobody seemed to connect him to the long forgotten Spider-man, however.

A few times, Peter had come close to getting cornered by other heroes, but had managed to avoid them. They tried while Deadpool was around, as well as times he wasn’t. Peter was well versed in not getting caught, so he was able to handle himself. Deadpool would make a grand spectacle of himself when he could, to give time for Peter to disappear.

Deadpool pushed for Peter to name his costumed self a few times, but Peter refused. He wasn’t comfortable yet solidifying what he was doing. Part of him entertained the idea that he could collect up enough money to make sure he was set for life. He could pull from it little at a time and never revisit mercenary work.

The other part of him… was addicted.

The rush he got when he had an alpha desperate and reliant on his help was incomparable. After every mission, Peter would take Wade hard and brutal, spewing everything Peter had ever wanted to say to an alpha. Though he couldn’t understand it, Wade seemed to enjoy the humiliation and rough sex. To each their own, Peter supposed.

Beyond the money and the high of seeing an alpha needing an omega’s help, there was also reliving the parts of his past he thought he’d blocked out. Making webbing again, swinging through the buildings, righting a wrong, saving someone… Those were things that had given his life purpose, once upon a time. Things he believed made him special, and helpful to those in need.

Doing those things again, being reminded of what they meant to him, hearing his uncle’s words in his head once more… It was hard to walk away from it. It was hard not to hide in the shadows and web a mugger to the wall on his way home. Hard not to keep an eye on a drunk group of girls stubbing their way to the subway after a night of fun. Hard not to scare off drug dealers when they caught sight of potential new users.

It was desperately hard not to be a hero.

Especially when he enjoyed mercenary work so much.

This left Peter feeling conflicted, to say the least. So he did what he could to distract himself, and help the people it felt normal to help, like the other brothel workers. This lead to Peter finally questioning Wade on how he had managed to boost revenue at the brothel while also keeping the dangerous alphas away.

“Keeping them away?” Wade chuckled. “The trick is, I didn’t.”

Peter was understandably confused. “What do you mean?”

“See, some of the bigger brothels around got together and formed a database of sorts.”

Peter knew about that. Momma Alex used it as well, keeping an eye on potential troublesome clients and reporting those she encountered.

“I just looked up the Johns that didn’t like playing by the rules, but weren’t overly dangerous. Then I narrowed their known blacklists down to places they were most likely to visit next. After that, I just visited all of them. Their instructions were to go to said brothels, have the most boring sex in the world, and then leave a big tip. If there was a single muttered complaint from an omega, I’d kill ‘em.”

Peter gaped. “You sent _known_ dangerous alphas to our brothel?”

“Almost all alphas end up thinking they can break the rules eventually.” Wade shrugged. “Besides, the _actually_ dangerous ones, I made sure wouldn’t visit anywhere again.”

Peter spluttered. “That just leaves them going after innocent omegas in their daily lives!”

“You sure are picky, you know that? You want them to pay for sex or not? Anywho, they won’t be doing that either.”

“How can you possibly guarantee that?!”

“Because it was a trade off I made with them. I made them believe the brothels are paying me to keep their omegas safe, and if they do what I say, I won’t take any hit jobs that might pop up with their names on it.”

“I can’t believe you…” Peter dropped his head into his hands.

“Whaaat? It’s been working for months, hasn’t it?”

“What if it goes wrong?”

“Then I kill ‘em.” Wade said it like it wasn’t even a big deal, like it was just an item on his grocery list. The problem was, Peter was more bothered by how much that didn’t bother him.

Still, his paranoia over knowing that Momma Alex’s was now booming with alphas that had a problematic history, left Peter feeling unsettled. So more often than not, they stayed in Peter’s room at the brothel rather than Wade’s apartment so Peter could keep an eye on things.

It was quiet every evening, and they’d never once had an issue where Peter needed to be called in. They days passed by in a haze of sex, training, and the occasional job. Eventually, Peter was more focused on Aunt May’s upcoming trip than he was on his lingering paranoia. Everything was fine.

Right up until it wasn’t.

Wade had been wrapped around Peter, whining about how the sex swing that the brothel had stored away was never brought up. Peter was fighting off Wade’s clinging grip when he heard it. Sitting straight up in bed, he slapped a hand over Wade’s mouth and strained his enhanced hearing to verify the noise.

There it was again, one floor down, muffled and desperate — someone was screaming. Peter was out the door in an instant, clambering down the stairs as fast as he could go, tearing through the hallway without any regard to the other clients. The path ended at Adam’s locked door. Peter didn’t even pause. He threw his shoulder into the door, and broke part of the frame on his way in.

On the bed was Adam, nude and wrapped up in too tight strips of leather that kept him immobile. Between those strips were bright red lines of blood that were dripping over his skin to soak into the sheets. A gag was stuffed in Adam’s mouth that he was screaming through. Tears were leaking down his red blotched face. He looked at Peter with pure fear in his bloodshot eyes, desperately begging for help.

Sitting over Adam, was an alpha with a knife.

The unknown man was thrown across the room and into a wall before Peter even registered that he was moving. Blood rushed through his ears so loud he felt deaf. Rage burned through his veins as he approached the alpha who was now on the floor, struggling to catch his breath, clamoring for his dropped knife.

Peter kicked the weapon out of the way and then brought the heel of his foot down hard on the man’s hand. The alpha screamed. Peter could feel the bones break under his foot. He reached down and lifted the scum up by the front of shirt, slamming him back into the wall. Peter’s pulse was pounding so hard he could _see_ it. The veins in his eyes throbbing with his heartbeat, making the world tint red in cadence.

Time slowed as he pulled his fist back, ready to release every last ounce of his strength into a single swing. His lips were pulled back in a snarl. His chest rumbled with a growl he couldn’t even hear over the noise in his own head. He could feel sweat running down his spine.

The worst part of it all, was that the alpha looked indignant. He should have been terrified and in pain, and likely was, but his reaction to that emotion was to demand that Peter obey. It turned Peter’s stomach just to look at it. He’d make sure the alpha’s face would never be able to show such an expression ever again.

An arm wrapped around Peter’s waist, and a hand covered Peter’s pulled back fist. Deadpool’s now masked face settled beside Peter’s ear. “Don’t.”

“He deserves it.” Peter’s body shook with barely contained violence.

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t get his due, I’m saying you should let me do it. You’ll regret killing him later. Don’t do that to yourself.” Wade slowly pushed Peter’s hand down. “Let me do it.”

Peter was panting, barely able to catch his breath, his vision still throbbing and bright with focus. “I need to hurt him.”

“He’ll be hurt. I promise.” Wade’s voice was soothing and calm, muffled as it was through the noise in Peter’s head. “Your friend needs you. Go take care of him.”

Adam. Yes… Adam needed an omega that he felt safe around to take care of him. He was still bound and immobile. He didn’t need to see someone die in front of him like that.

Shakily, Peter let go of the alpha’s shirt and pulled back. The man opened his mouth, but Wade put a knife under the alpha’s chin in a second, effectively silencing him. Peter took a few unsteady steps to the side and allowed Wade to drag the man from the room.

Taking a deep breath, Peter turned around to look at the bed. His eyes skipped over Adam in a disjointed way, hyper focusing on the spots of pain, fear, and brutality. Peter couldn’t linger on any of what he was seeing. He stumbled over to the bed and forced his hands to work on each strip of leather at a time.

His fingers felt numb as they fumbled over the ties. He couldn’t get them undone. The knife was still on the floor, but he couldn’t very well bring the same knife over. That would be terrifying for Adam. So Peter just forced his fingers under the straps and pulled them apart bare handed. The exertion of strength helped his adrenaline find an outlet. By the time he was ripping off the gag, he almost felt in control again.

Adam was a shaking and sobbing mess. The moment his mouth was free of obstruction he started babbling apologizes. Peter pulled Adam into his arms and held tight.

“It’s not your fault… Not your fault…” Peter murmured, unable to fully process any of what Adam was babbling.

That’s right. It was _Wade’s_ fault. Wade who had sent dangerous alphas, _known_ dangerous alphas, to the shop. It was a ticking time bomb. Peter knew it would all blow up eventually. Of course this happened. The anger still swirling around inside of him finally found a new target — new person to blame.

The click of shoes hurried down the hallway. A moment later, Momma Alex was rushing into the room. “Oh my god! Adam!”

“Momma, I’m so sorry!” Adam immediately sobbed.

She ran over to him, running soothing hands through his hair and shushing him. Her eyes assessed the cuts, the blood, the deep welts from the bindings that were already bruising…

“Peter.” She kept her voice soft, noticing Peter’s still fever bright eyes. “Help me get him to the back. He needs medical treatment.”

Peter nodded. He felt hollow and on fire all at once. Still, he needed to take care of his friend. He stood up, supporting Adam as best he could without pressing too much on any of the injuries. Alex kept a steadying hand on Adam’s other arm. They carefully made their way across the room, but Adam’s knees gave out.

“I’ve got him,” Peter said. He scooped the sobbing Adam into his arms and they made their way downstairs, Adam spewing apologies the entire way.

Every time Adam said he was sorry, it felt like Peter was being stabbed. It was _his_ fault. He was the one that kept Wade around, never questioned the man’s methods, and put everyone in danger. Peter knew something like this could happen, and he had stood by and allowed it. He was just as bad as Wade was.

It took some time for Adam to calm down enough to stop sobbing. Once the blood was washed away, Peter was relieved to see that the cuts weren’t too deep. With the proper care and enough time to heal, Adam might just get away with minimal scarring. Still, he’d be out of work for a while because of this. Assuming he could go back to work at all after what happened.

Then again, what other options did he have?

Peter’s mouth tasted sour and his thoughts spun in circles. His chest was painfully tight. He paced the floor, unable to sit still as Momma Alex continued to patch Adam up. The whole situation was so messed up. Peter knew there were people like that out there. Sick and twisted people that hurt those with little recourse. Knowing it and _seeing_ it happen were two completely different things.

“I don’t understand how he even made it past me. We should have known about someone with his reputation.” Alex frowned as she sanitized another cut. Peter felt sick. “When did he even come in? We need to get his information to the other brothels. Peter, did you see what he looks like?”

“I…” Peter could barely recall the man’s face. It was a blur of red in his mind. “Deadpool has him. We can get pictures.”

“I’m so sorry!” Adam choked out.

Peter gritted his teeth and slammed his fist against the wall, barely pulling back in time to not punch a hole in it. Adam flinched. “Damn it! This is not your fault!”

“It is!” Adam sobbed, shaking all over. “I let him in through the back so nobody would see him…”

Peter froze and turned to look at Adam in shock. Alex took a deep breath to compose herself, and asked calmly, “Why did you do that?”

Adam’s crying picked up, as did his shaking. He looked sweaty and pale, and a step away from throwing up. It took some time for him to be able to speak again. “H-he said he was going to cut m-me off!”

Something cold dropped into Peter’s stomach. He took a few quick steps forward but stopped himself when Adam flinched. “Are you _using_?”

“I’m s-sorry!” Adam doubled over, hiding his face in Alex’s shoulder. “Please don’t k-kick me out!”

“Shh, calm down.” Alex ran a soothing hand over his hair. “Take deep breaths. You’re not in trouble.”

Peter scrunched his eyes closed, trying hard to breathe through his conflicting emotions. It wasn’t uncommon for those in their positions to get addicted to drugs. It was an easy escape from the reality of their situation. It helped them get through the times when it felt like they couldn’t handle it anymore. It was also an easy catalyst to making bad decisions if threatened with it being taken away.

Worst of all, it meant that Wade wasn’t the one who had caused the current situation. It was Adam’s own circumstances. Circumstances that had been forced on him by how society was set up. Because alphas were obsessed with control to the point of _manipulating_ an omega into setting up their own _torture session._

“Peter… _Peter_!”

Alex’s voice finally broke through the furious thoughts in Peter’s head. His eyes snapped over to her and he realized his breathing had picked up, and his clenched fists were trembling with the need to lash out.

“Do you need some air?” Alex pointedly asked. Adam whimpered.

Peter forced himself to take a calming breath. “I’ll help you get into a rehab facility. You need to detox, and the sooner the better.”

Adam choked. “I can’t afford that!”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“ _You_ can’t afford that!”

“I can.”

“But—”

“DON’T—” Peter gritted his teeth and willed his voice back to a softer tone. “Don’t argue with me. It’ll be fine.” He looked over at the frowning Alex before adding on, “I’m going to go get some air.”

He sped from the room as fast as his feet would take him, making his way up the stairs three at a time until he could finally burst through the door and to the rooftop, sucking in cool night air. He wanted to break something — or _someone_. He wanted to rage and scream and _destroy_.

And what kind of hero did that make him? That was exactly why he had to stop entertaining his fantasies of going back to being a costumed vigilante. Heroes didn’t want to lash out at the world. Heroes didn’t want to _kill_. Heroes saved people. Heroes had a _responsibility_.

Peter tilted his head back to the dark sky and took a long and shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Uncle Ben…” he whispered. “I’m just so… weak.”

 

~*~

 

Peter was sitting on Wade’s bed in the early morning light when the mercenary finally returned home. Wade paused upon entering, carefully studying the still and quiet form on the bed. After inspection, he paced over and kneeled in front of Peter, taking bruised and bloody hands into his own, carefully assessing the damage.

“What did you get in a fight with?” Wade asked, voice soft.

“A dumpster.”

“Is there anything left of it?”

“No…”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Wade rolled up the bottom of his mask and dropped light kisses across Peter’s damaged knuckles.

Peter sat still and watched Wade for a long moment in silence. “I blamed you.”

“I blamed me, too.”

“But it wasn’t your fault. That alpha was Adam’s dealer. Adam snuck him in because he was threatened.”

“I know. Your friend wasn’t his only victim.” Wade pulled a phone from one of his pouches. He pulled up a picture and handed it to Peter.

It was the alpha. Surrounding him were large printed out pictures of what he had done to other omegas. It was similar to Adam. All of them were bound in painful ways, all of them were covered in blood and wounds, all of them were either desperately screaming, or still and pale. On the alpha’s chest sat a phone in a plastic bag, likely containing the evidence needed to solve the murders of all those omegas that surrounded him.

Not that he’d be going to jail for it. Deadpool had taken care of that. The alpha was pinned to the rooftop by various sharp and pointed instruments strewn throughout his body. Wade must have sacrificed a lot of his weapons to create such a spectacle. Blood splatters dotted the pictures around the alpha, along with little baggies of fine white powder, and a large puddle of blood stained the gravel, tar, and shingles.

“I sent that picture to all the news outlets: local, national, international, independent, web based. Everyone will know his face. They’ll know what he did.”

Peter felt numb while staring at the phone in his hands. What Wade had done was bad. Cruel. Murder. Yet, Peter couldn’t find it in himself to care. The only emotion available was… jealousy.

“I wanted to kill him,” Peter whispered.

“I know.”

“I wanted to rip him apart until there was nothing left of him.”

“That’s why I couldn’t let you do that.”

“What kind of person does that make me?” Peter looked down at his hands, and the brutal evidence of his desires.

“It makes you human.”

“I have so much… _hate_.” Peter closed his eyes, trying to keep the flood of emotions inside of him buried under the numbness he’d found. “I want to hurt them. All of them.”

Wade placed his hands on either side of Peter’s face. He leaned up as he pulled Peter down, bringing their lips together. It was light as air and full of comfort. It was everything the world was not.

Peter slid off the bed to straddle Wade’s lap, burying his face into the crook of the man’s leather clad neck. The omega in Peter felt comforted, surrounded as he was by Wade’s bulk and alpha smell, those strong arms holding him in place. It felt wrong. He shouldn’t crave the embrace of an alpha. Not after what had just happened. Not with the way the world was.

But Peter was a slave to his desires.

Peter was weak.

 

~*~

 

The phone in Peter’s pocket buzzed yet again. He ignored it and focused on Aunt May, giving her one last hug before she headed off inside the airport to take her trip. Peter dropped a kiss on her cheek.

“Have fun! And remember to not worry about me.”

“Oh!” May playfully smacked at his arm. “I’m always worrying about you!”

Peter grinned. “This is _you_ time. Just take lots of pictures for me.”

Aunt May fussed over him some more before she finally agreed to leave. Peter waved happily at her, glad that she was heading out on her vacation at last. May was practically vibrating with nervous excitement. Once she was finally out of sight, Peter’s shoulders dropped and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialed the number that kept texting him.

“Peter?”

“Harry, I told you I was alright how many times now?” Peter turned around and started heading back out of the airport.

“I just… couldn’t calm down until I heard your voice with my own ears.” Harry sounded even more stressed and tired than usual. “Where are you?”

“At the airport. I was seeing off Aunt May.”

“For her Hawaii trip?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m surprised she left after what happened.”

“And that’s exactly the reason I made sure she didn’t see the news at all for the past few days.”

News of Deadpool’s very public murder was all over the place. Peter had intercepted their worrying neighbor countless times in order to keep Aunt May in the dark. She most certainly wouldn’t have left had she known. The knowledge of a serial killer with a preference for omegas had everyone worried.

“Pete, please, are you _sure_ you don’t need to stay in one of the safe houses for a few days?”

“The guy’s dead already, Harry. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, but… The debate is causing a lot of noise…”

Peter’s mouth twisted in annoyance. The death of the alpha was considered “controversial.” People were in debate as to whether he deserved to die, despite what he had done. There were even those who argued that nothing had been proven and it could have been a setup to “ruin an alpha’s good name.” Everyone was highly focused on the life and death of the alpha.

Not so much the omegas that had died at his hands.

“I can handle myself, Harry.”

“I know that…” Harry sighed. “I just can’t stand the thought of something like that happening to you and me being completely unaware of it until it’s too late… It scares me, Pete.”

Peter stopped walking, his heart twisting in his chest. It was nice to know that they still cared about each other that much, even after all this time, and especially after everything that Harry went through with his dad. It made Peter feel a little guilty for being suspicious of Harry after discovering Norman’s illegal dealings. Harry was a _good_ guy.

“You scare me, too, ya know. Dealing in such high powered politics and money. You’re much more likely to have someone looking to take you out. And what can _I_ do?”

“Well, don’t we make quite the anxious pair…”

Peter smirked. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

“You, too. Please stay safe out there, okay? Call me if you need anything. Promise.”

“I promise I’ll call you if I have a problem,” Peter relented, exasperated.

“Thank you.” Someone in the background was reminding Harry of the things he needed to be doing. It sounded like his secretary, the one who definitely dressed to Harry’s preferences. “I gotta go, Pete.”

“Sure thing. Remember to eat something today.”

Harry chuckled. “Don’t worry. Felicia schedules my meals as well.”

“You’re due for a snack in thirty minutes, sir,” Peter could hear the secretary say in the background.

“I’m glad _someone’s_ looking after you,” Peter teased.

Harry huffed out a laugh. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Putting away his phone, Peter walked out into the bright afternoon light. He still had a lot to do over the next few days. Making sure Adam wasn’t trying to leave the rehab facility, paying Adam’s bills, then digging into the personal history of every other person Peter worked with at the brothel. Invasion of privacy it may be, but he would be damned if something like what happened to Adam _ever_ happened near Peter again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes mention that his omega side wanted comfort and that him craving that comfort made him weak to his own biology. This is a misconception on his part, since it was really just the human side of him seeking comfort from someone he trusted. However, as much as Peter wants to separate himself from gender assumptions, he still believes them. He believes only omegas would crave comfort because they’re emotional and fragile, and that just isn’t true.
> 
> And, ya know, innocent until proven guilty and all that. Peter’s complaints about the controversy are more just an indication of his own headspace, but also how media is quick to vilify omegas, but withhold judgement for alphas.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: excessive violence, blood**

It was still early in the day for Peter, but he had already escaped the house in order to hole up at Wade’s apartment. Aunt May was back from her trip, and the neighbor was over to hear all about it. Since Peter had been informed of every last detail ten times already, he’d excused himself from the house and went to find something to distract him.

He was happy for Aunt May, he really was, and the look of excitement on her face as she talked about it all was well worth it. However, there were only so many times Peter could handle hearing the same story about the bartender that flirted with May before he just couldn’t take it anymore.

So that left him lazily clicking around the internet as Wade assembled some device Peter didn’t even want to know about. There was an update for one of his legal jobs, and he looked it over. He was bored, so he may as well.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go out and stop by this shop,” Peter said.

“You still doing that Secret Shopper job?” Wade held something up to the light and inspected it. “We can fake a better job for you, ya know.”

Peter shrugged. “I dunno. I kinda like getting people fired for being rude to omegas.” Wade laughed at that. “Wanna go with?”

“Baby Boy, I thought you’d never ask!” Wade cooed.

Peter rolled his eyes as he accepted the job order. As he was clicking away, a notification popped up, showing a clip from a recent news conference about the alpha that had been killed. Peter couldn’t seem to stop himself. He clicked on the link.

There was a woman on a podium, surrounded by mics. She looked sad, but had her shoulders squared and her chin up. The suit she had on was finely tailored. “My father was a good man. These accusations against him are false, and I will do whatever I can to prove that.”

Anger, hot and bright, swelled in Peter’s chest. His teeth clenched as he listened to the woman drone on about how good of a person her father had been, as if Peter hadn’t seen with his own eyes the kind of monster he really was. Peter was barely able to even understand half of what she was saying.

Then, another woman in the audience forced herself through the crowd and started screaming at the top of her lungs in order to be heard. “HE KILLED MY SON! HE’S A MONSTER!”

Security rushed forward to catch the woman who was shoving her way through the crowd, trying to force her way onto the podium to attack the alpha’s daughter. Said daughter crinkled her nose, as if the woman in the audience was too disgusting to look at.

“I am sorry your son’s case remains unresolved, but my father did not—”

“HE DID, YOU BITCH! HE KILLED MY SON!”

The woman on the platform held onto the podium with a white knuckled grip. “Perhaps your son’s case would have been solved if his ass didn’t have dozens of conflicting DNA in it.”

The crowd erupted, some on the side of the daughter, some on the side of the mother. Reporters were shouting questions over each other in an intelligible squabble. The two women continued to shout at one another, and even more security tried to pull the daughter away from the mics.

A hand descended into the laptop’s screen and closed it. Peter looked up at Wade’s carefully neutral face. “No need to focus on that, Petey.”

“If we had tried to send him to jail instead, would he have gone free by now?”

“Don’t worry about that kind of stuff. He’s dead now. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. It’s a _debate_.” Peter spat the word like the curse that it was.

“Maybe it needs to be. Maybe people need to see the divide a little more clearly.”

Peter looked away, not sure how he felt about that.

“C’mon. Let’s go ensure the rights of shoppers everywhere, and I’ll buy us dessert on the way.”

Given that there wasn’t much else Peter could do except uselessly obsess over things, he agreed. It took some time to snap Peter out of his mood, but Wade was a decent distraction. By the time they were within sight of the store, Peter was successfully ignoring the ever present anger still burning in his gut.

Wade had agreed to wearing plain clothes over his suit, but still had his mask and gloves on. After some nagging, he agreed to pull the hood up around his face to hide the very obvious fashion choices that screamed “I’m a criminal!” Peter couldn’t say _too_ much, since he was wearing his suit under his clothes as well. Mostly because the moment night fell, he wanted to websling around the city. That always managed to calm him down.

“So what do we do? Wander around the store and see if they offer to help us?” Wade asked, finishing off a tacodog he’d nabbed from a street vendor.

“Yeah, I have a list of things I have to look out f—” Peter stopped in his tracks. Down the street, he could hear screaming and fighting.

“Whacha hearing?” Wade mumbled around a mouth full of bread.

“There’s trouble down past the street corner…” Every instinct Peter had said that he needed to go help. What if it was a big problem? What if the police weren’t there yet? What if there wasn’t a hero nearby?

Wade swallowed his food. “Do you really want to get involved in a street scuffle? It could be gang related.”

“Yeah… It could be…” Peter had rules now. He had to keep his head low, not make enemies, and definitely not be seen trying to be a hero.

“I’m sure the cops are on their way. That’s what they get paid to do.”

“You’re right…” but Peter’s voice was distant as he focused on hearing more of what was happening.

_“She’s going to kill him! Someone help!”_

“Peter?”

_“Momma, stop! Please!”_

“Peter…”

_“What’s happening?!”_

_“Get away from me!”_

_“Why are you doing this?”_

“Peter!”

Before Peter even realized it, he was running. _Shit, I shouldn’t get involved._ Of course, he also couldn’t do nothing. He had to at least assess the situation. Maybe break up a fight and make sure the innocent bystanders were okay until actual authorities arrived. Surely it was just a scuffle. Nothing big. Nothing nefarious.

Turning the corner, Peter found himself stunned for a moment. The scene before him made no sense. People were either running away, or desperately trying to contain those who were fighting. The problem was, the people being violent didn’t make any sense.

Upper class moms, teenage girls with flower crowns, coffee shop workers — about five of them that Peter could see. All of them had their teeth bared, snarling, their hands curled into fists or claws, their faces wild and hate filled. Many of them were covered in blood.

And the victims of their attacks were all tall, broad, empowered, well off men… Alphas. They were all attacking alphas with murderous intent.

“What the hell…” Peter whispered, forcing himself to walk forward. He could at least web some of them to the wall or something.

There was a group of four piled on top of a woman who was still trying to attack a man that was soaked in blood and clutching both hands over his eye. To the side was a little girl. She was crying and begging her mother to stop. Someone was holding her back from the mother’s obviously blind rage.

Peter headed to them first. He needed to make sure the woman didn’t accidentally hurt her child. However, he didn’t make it halfway there before he noticed his body reacting to something. Heat coursed through his veins, and his mind felt fuzzy. He stumbled as his skin started to go numb.

He came to a stop, panting for breath. His heart rate felt out of control. Sweat started trickling down his back and the world took on a sharp and bright quality even as the edges of his vision began to blur. It was at about that point he recognized what he was feeling.

With that realization came the anger. Intense, boiling anger that pulled up from the very depths of him. It rushed through him, filling up his chest to near bursting, shutting down all rational thought before it could really happen. Hate, discontent, and wrath warred for dominance in his mind.

It felt so untethered at first. It was all there without an outlet. He questioned himself — asked what it was that caused such rage within him.

No. Not what. _Who_ . The same people that always caused him to feel this way. The same ones that caused everyone to feel this way. The _alphas_ that ruined the world and held all omegas under their boot like so much dirt.

His mind seethed with barely contained rage. He would rip them to shreds. Every last one of them. When none of them were left, his anger might finally be assuaged. Once they were gone, he might finally be safe. They would all be safe.

Peter took a deep breath through his nose, allowing his heightened senses to pick up the scent of all the alphas in the area. There were far too many for his tastes. Far too many to be safe. No matter. He’d see to their end soon enough.

Looking up at the world around him, Peter saw red. Everything around him was a screaming, writhing, mess of violence. He watched it all in slow motion — the blood splatters, the thud of impromptu bludgeons, the screams of pain. A hard smile stretched across Peter’s face as he took a step forward.

Abruptly, someone was fighting him. The person reeked of alpha. Peter snarled, happy to take his aggression out so soon. He threw the alpha into a wall, charging after them a moment later. His newfound focus paired well with his spidey sense. He dodged all incoming attacks with ease, and focused on landing blows that would cripple.

The alpha lashed out, unrelenting, aiming for Peter’s joints, trying to immobilize. Did the alpha think so little of Peter that they assumed lethal force was unneeded? Peter would soon relieve them of such misconceptions.

Bones cracked in a satisfying manner under Peter’s hand. An arm, it looked like. Good. They deserved to experience pain before they died. They deserved to be crippled so they couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. They deserved to be _dead_.

Peter lifted his other hand, formed a fist, and let it fly. However, the damn alpha rolled out of the way, leaving Peter to bust apart concrete instead. He roared, unhappy that his prey dared to continue to fight, to try and live another day. He forced extra speed into his body, sending a flurry of attacks at the alpha, flaring with irritation when half of them were blocked or dodged. He would enjoy finally eviscerating this alpha.

Blows landed on Peter; he saw when they happened, and his body stumbled when they unbalanced him. He didn’t feel them. His body still moved, and that was all that mattered. He just needed to keep moving until he ripped the alpha to shreds. Literally.

The alpha picked Peter up and planned to throw him. So, Peter stuck his hands to the person in return, letting the momentum carry them both into a roll on the hard cement below them. Peter ended up on top, one hand pressed firmly on the alpha’s torso, another gripped tight to a shin that had tried to kick him off.

With a growl, Peter yanked his arm back and ripped the leg clean off at the knee. The alpha below him screamed, and it felt satisfying. Warm blood soaked into Peter’s clothes, spreading over his skin like a caress. He grinned, feral and crazed.

It felt good, making sure the alpha was neutralized.

Throwing the leg to the side, Peter stood up to assess his prey. His eyes skipped across the alpha’s form. Tall, large build, too many muscles, clothing soaked red with blood… Peter wanted — deserved — to see the look of pain and fear on the alpha’s face, but something obstructed it. Snarling, Peter bent down and ripped the fabric off.

What he saw gave him pause. Torn and disfigured skin, so unlike the perfect alphas Peter was used to. And the face wasn’t twisted in pain and fear, or even anger in return, but in worry. Peter stumbled back, his mind having a hard time rationalizing what he was seeing.

But it didn’t matter, right? The confusing alpha would die of blood loss. There were others that Peter could kill. Others that would be truly satisfying. With every alpha death, the world was that much safer. Peter turned to go seek them out, but something caught hold of his foot and sent him tumbling to the ground.

Peter whipped around with a snarl at the alpha still trying to fight. He was on the man in an instant, hands forcing their way through fabric and skin to sink into the alpha’s stomach. Peter leaned over so their faces were close, so he could see the details of the alpha’s pain at last. Peter bared his teeth.

One weak and shaky hand lifted up and gripped Peter’s arm. “Don’t… hurt… them…” the alpha wheezed out. “Petey… stop.”

Petey?

Shock and confusion helped cool some of the inferno roaring through Peter’s mind. Sound started filtering in once more. Sounds of fear, loss, and agony. Peter blinked and suddenly he was aware of the person under him. Wade. He’d just killed Wade.

Peter yanked his hands back as his stomach flipped. He stared at his arms in horror. Blood and gore covered them. It covered all of him. He was dripping in the proof of his sin. Panic shot through him like lightning.

_Help._ Peter tried to speak the word aloud, but his lips wouldn’t form it. He made a guttural sound instead, and it left him seeming even more the rabid monster that he’d become.

Blood burbled from Wade’s lips as he tried to keep talking, trying to calm Peter down, but air could no longer fill Wade’s lungs. Tears stung Peter’s eyes as his body began to tremble violently.

_HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!_

Bending forward, Peter gripped the sides of his head and screamed.

 

~*~

 

Peter woke groggy and disoriented. Peeling his eyes open, he looked around the dimly lit room in confusion. Where was he? It took a long while before the syrupy sluggishness in his mind cleared enough to assess the room.

Plain white walls, no furniture within sight, small space, a single cot in the middle of the room, a metal door with no knob that sat flush with the wall… A cell.

Peter sucked in air and sat up abruptly, but that was a bad idea. His head swam and his vision blacked out for a moment before slowly coming back. He gripped his head and moaned. _What the hell happened?_

An audio speaker popped and then a voice was entering the room. “Just stay calm and take it easy. Nobody is here to hurt you.”

The voice was unfamiliar. Peter looked around the room, searching for the hidden camera, but he was still having trouble concentrating. He swallowed on a dry throat and his tongue felt heavy when he spoke. “Where am I?”

“In a secured facility.”

“Why?”

There was a long pause in response to that. Then the person asked, “ How much do you remember?”

Peter blinked. What was the last thing he remembered? They were going to the shop for his job… There had been screaming… Then…

“No. No no no…” Peter curled in on himself from where he sat on the cot. He rocked back and forth, trying not to think about his blood covered arms and the organs spilling onto the sidewalk. “What did I do?”

“Hey! Deep breaths. Stay calm.”

“Calm?” Peter choked out, tears already running down his face. “I killed him!”

“Listen to me, okay? Deadpool is alive. It takes a lot more than that to keep him down.”

Peter took a shaky breath, not sure he believed the disembodied voice. “How?”

“I have literally seen him flattened by a steamroller, and then talking a mile a minute the next day. He’s alright. More importantly, he kept you from hurting anyone else until I got there.”

That opened up so many other questions, but Peter was distracted by the memory of his anger. It had been so… _consuming_. He’d never felt anything like it. And it happened for absolutely no reason.

“Hey… Listen to me. Can you focus on my voice?”

Peter looked up, staring at the empty room around him. “What…”

“Are you still feeling it now? Whatever it was that made you go crazy?”

The importance of that question wasn’t lost on Peter. He took a moment to really assess himself and compare how he was feeling to how he’d felt before. “No… I feel… groggy and heavy. Tired.”

“That’s probably from the tranq I hit you with. You shook it off way faster than you should have.”

“Yeah… My body does that…”

“Maybe your body processed out whatever else was in your system causing the violent actions. We think it’s airborne, given the circumstances. That’s why you’re in a sealed in an airtight room. So stay put, okay? This is for your health and everyone else’s protection.”

Peter’s stomach roiled and he nodded. He was a _danger_ to the general public. Flashes of the fight blipped through his head, but he could barely remember it. He just remembered snapping out of it enough to see himself covered in blood and Wade being unable to breathe.

“We’re working on a plan. Stay there until I say so. There’s a minifridge with water in the corner behind you… for the cottonmouth.”

Peter nodded. Before it occurred to him to ask who he was speaking to, there was another pop from the speakers and all was silent once more. It should have been concerning to be locked in such a room by unknown people, but Peter couldn’t really blame them. He was just as afraid of himself as they were.

Looking down, Peter noticed he was in a hospital gown and scrubbed clean. At least he didn’t have to look at the consequences of his actions. A morbid part of him wanted to check under his nails to see if there was anything that had been missed. He shoved the thought from his mind and carefully stood up, making his way over to the fridge.

There were also protein drinks to be had, and by the time he’d finished off one of those and a full bottle of water, he felt mostly like himself again. His mind ran over what happened time and time again, trying to make sense of it. If it was airborne, how far had it spread? And why did it affect some and not others?

Peter sat cross legged on the cot and stared into space, obsessing over the blips of sounds and images that he could remember. The most prominent memory had been smell. The smell of alpha, the smell of fear, the smell of blood. It had surrounded him then, and he allowed it to torture him with the memory of it once more.

The door in the corner clacked and Peter jumped at the sound. A few seconds later, Wade burst through the door, making a beeline for Peter. Tears were in Peter’s eyes in an instant as the memory of his anger towards Wade’s alpha flashed through his mind. He tried to shove Wade back, but there was no strength in his arms. Peter really, really wanted to be held, despite everything, and Wade was complying.

“I could hurt you!” Peter choked out.

“The fact that you’re even saying that means it’s fine.”

“I’m _sorry_.”

“Shhh, it’s not your fault.” Wade rubbed soothing hands up and down Peter’s back and encouraged Peter to bury his face into Wade’s neck. “I’m okay. I can heal from anything. The important part is that you didn’t hurt anyone. So everything’s okay.”

“I hurt _you_!”

“It doesn’t matter if you hurt me.”

“Yes, it does!” Peter sobbed, clinging to Wade with shaking arms.

Wade made a happy little noise. “It’s hard not to be addicted to you when you say stuff like that, you know.”

Peter scoffed, but allowed Wade to pull them into a kiss. It was hard and desperate and oh so soothing after everything that had happened. More than anything else, it managed to help put Peter at ease. Wade pressed their foreheads together, his hands holding Peter’s face, the leather on his thumbs gently stroking Peter’s cheeks.

“You’re okay,” Wade whispered. “Everything’s okay.”

Everything was definitely _not_ okay, but Peter appreciated the lie for the time being. Still, his mind couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, couldn’t stop considering the consequences of what he knew. “If whatever caused this is airborne, it means we won’t know where it is until it’s too late. Does that leave me locked in here?”

“I’ve got a plan for that.” Wade pulled something out of a pouch. It looked like an odd metal face shield that would only leave his eyes free of obstruction with a clear sheet of glass. “This filters absolutely everything. In fact, it filters so hard you could be underwater with it for a decent amount of time. Sucks the oxygen right out of it.”

Peter eyed it dubiously. “Where did you get that?”

“Now, now. Don’t ask questions I can’t answer.”

When Peter opened his mouth to argue, Wade dropped one last kiss and then placed the device over Peter’s face and hit a button. Bands of metal crawled along his skin to secure the thing to the back of his head before the seal kicked in. Peter took a deep breath and found it odd to breathe air that had literally no smell at all. It was definitely a high grade device.

“Comfy?” Wade asked.

“I’ll live.” Peter’s voice came out oddly metallic sounding. After running his fingers over the device he dropped his hands into his lap, shoulders sagging. “Wade… I need you to tell me what happened.”

“C’mon.” Wade took hold of Peter’s wrist and pulled him off the bed. “I grabbed a spare costume for you. Let’s get you changed and I’ll introduce you to Clint.”

Peter was still irrationally nervous to leave his quarantined room, but nothing bad happened. Once Peter had real clothes on and was stepping out into the rest of the building they were in, someone else was waiting on them. Peter gaped (though it couldn’t be seen), immediately recognizing who it was.

“This is my friend Clint,” Wade casually introduced.

“Aren’t you Hawkeye?” Peter asked.

Clint gave a brief nod. “I am. Glad to see you’re doing better.”

Peter looked between the two of them. “How…”

“It’s a weird friendship,” Clint answered.

“I have an emergency call button,” Wade said. “I hit it so he’d know to come help. You were still out of it, so you don’t remember him showing up.”

“Oh…” Peter cut his eyes away, uncomfortable in the knowledge that someone from the Avengers had seen him like that.

“We’re lucky the tranq lasted as long on you as it did.” Clint propped his hands on his hips and eyed Peter’s costume. “We barely got you quarantined in time before you started trying to shake it off.”

“What about the other people who were affected?”

“Anyone going crazy got hit with a tranq as well. They should still be down for the time being.”

“Were they all… more than human as well?” Peter asked the important question he was dying to know.

“Uh… No…” Clint looked uncomfortable.

“The common factor of all those affected,” Wade cut in. “Is that they were all omegas.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “What?”

“They were all in a blind rage. You were the only one who snapped out of it and stopped moving.”

And that was only because the guilt of killing Wade had overridden the intense anger. Peter’s mouth suddenly felt dry. Why was there something out there that only affected omegas in such a way?

“Can you describe what happened?” Clint asked as he led the way into another room in order to record Peter’s answer. Peter did his best to explain everything in as much detail as he remembered.

“We need to get a brain scan on one of the people affected to better understand what’s causing it,” Peter summed up, his mind already churning through what he knew. “If it was an adrenaline spike, we’d be able to tell by their vitals if we get to them soon enough. Were they apprehended?”

“No, actually, I tranqed everyone that was fighting.” Clint continued typing as he talked. “It was only about a two mile radius. Luckily there was a hospital in the area. Everyone was moved there fairly quickly except for you. There were a lot of injuries going around.”

Peter shook his head, alarm bells just starting to go off. “If it’s adrenaline based, it could wake them up early as well. Then that hospital is going to be flooded with still affected omegas that don’t know what they’re doing.”

“If we call this in, it’s going to cause an uproar. Nobody is going to believe that something caused a bunch of omegas to go ‘feral.’ Besides, they weren’t attacking random people, they were specifically attacking _alphas_. All of them.”

“Of course they were.” Peter waved that off. It was obvious that untethered anger would immediately find a link to an alpha. Peter could clearly remember thinking that any alpha would do. It wasn’t like he was the only one with such grievances.

No, there was something else that was missing. Something that kept nagging at him. He thought about the area that they were in during the incident. He mapped it out in his head. The nearest hospital was—

Peter paled. “I have to get to the hospital!”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Wade jumped in front of Peter. “We can send some people over to check—”

“You don’t understand!”

“It’s safer if you stay here,” Clint agreed.

“Wade!” Peter gripped the man’s arms in panic. “With that many people going in, they’d have to call in help. My aunt is on call. _That’s_ the hospital she works for!”

Peter knew his eyes were wide and wild, his chest heaving in panic and anxiety. Clint looked unsure of Peter’s condition, but Wade didn’t even hesitate. He handed over Peter’s mask and immediately started searching for his grappling hook.

“We’re not that far from there. Let’s go.”

“Wade!” Clint jumped up from the desk he was sitting at. “This isn’t a good idea. He’s going to have negative affects to whatever was in his system—”

“Call in backup, my avian friend. We’re goin’ on ahead!”

“Wade!”

But they were already gone.

 

~*~

 

It was a lot later in the day than Peter had realized, and by the time they made it to the hospital, it was pure chaos. Patients and nurses were locked inside rooms, and police were slow to respond, busy as they were still trying to clean up after the first incident. That was the only upside, as Peter wanted to get the omegas restrained before they got themselves shot.

On the third floor, Peter found a group of four omegas beating themselves bloody while trying to get into a barricaded room. At the other end of the hallway were a group of nurses locked inside an exam room. They tapped on the window to get his attention.

“Who’s in the room at the end of the hall?” Peter asked.

“The hospital director and a few doctors. They look ready to kill them. What’s going on?”

Both of their voices were muffled — Peter’s because of the filter and the nurse’s because of the window — but at least they could communicate. The group of omegas at the end of the hall barely paid them any mind. One of them threw a punch and something cracked. Peter just hoped it was the door and not someone’s bones.

“It’s airborne and it only affects omegas,” Peter answered. “It’s a blind rage they’re in, and they just associate the anger with the first thing that comes to mind. It can take hours for it to wear off.”

“Everyone’s mad at doctors for one reason or another!” one of the nurses cried. That was true, and with most doctors being alphas, it just compounded the problem.

“If it’s an extended adrenaline spike, that could cause severe organ damage if we don’t get it under control,” another nurse pointed out.

“Do you have somewhere you can contain them if we get them there?” Peter asked.

They discussed it amongst themselves, and then came to a decision. The plan was for Peter to get the nurses downstairs to the decided upon room, prep the other nurses in the wing, and then bring the omegas to them. The last part of the plan was dependent on Wade.

“Don’t hurt anyone,” Peter reminded.

“I got it. I got it.” Wade started rolling down the neck of his suit to make sure his scent glands were exposed. “Just get everyone else ready. I’ll collect up as many as I can.”

Wade started down the hallway as Peter helped the nurses towards a stairwell. Down the hallway, Peter could hear Wade’s voice calling, “Heeey! I’m a mean old alpha! Look over here! Come and get me!”

They made it to the second floor without much incident. However, they encountered a bedpan wielding omega in one of the hallways. Peter webbed her to the wall and they kept going. She screamed wordlessly at them as they passed. Peter noticed her rapid breathing, bloodshot eyes, and spittle flying from her mouth. It was creepy, but also concerning.

The nurses insisted on a few stops to bang on some supply closet doors. That successfully rooted out a few other people in hiding, and thus more help for setting up the room. By the time they all hurried inside their destination, everyone knew exactly what to do. They set to work getting beds prepped and needles ready with proper meds.

A nervous squeal echoed down the hallway. Peter poked his head out to see Deadpool booking it with a hoard of angry omegas chasing after him.

“This is like 28 Days Later!” Wade yelled. Peter couldn’t help but agree.

“Take a lap. I’ll grab them one at a time.”

“Are you serious?!”

“You got a better idea?”

“You suuuck!” Wade called as he ran by, his voice trailing off.

Peter grabbed a woman at the back of the troop and grappled her into the room. She thrashed and screamed, kicking him in his shins multiple times. He’d definitely be bruised from that. One of the nurses rushed over and jabbed her with a needle. Slowly, she became lethargic enough to get her on a bed in order for the other nurses to strap her down and set up an IV.

“Get fluids going in her first, then hit her with the oxytocin. We’ll dose them little at a time to see what they need. Keep an eye on vitals. We need their blood pressure down as soon as possible.” The head nurse started barking specific orders to people and everyone ran around like a well oiled machine. They just might be able to do this.

“You ready for another?” Peter asked.

“I will be by the time you wrestle her onto the bed.”

Peter stepped back out into the hallway. Deadpool stumbled around the corner just in time. There was another woman wrapped around his waist, her feet dragging along the floor as Wade kept running. It was slowing him down, but he was still keeping ahead of the other eight he’d collected behind him.

“Can’t I just throw you this one?” Wade complained.

“No. Don’t throw anyone. Keep to the plan.”

Wade huffed in annoyance but obediently jogged past. Peter grabbed the next one. It was a slow, yet high stress process. Peter wasn’t sure how long it took, given he was entirely focused on the task at hand. Wade was slowing down by the time there were three left, which ended with him rounding the corner with the omegas attached to him, using nails and teeth to rip chunks out of him. Peter winced at the sight.

“Can you hold them down long enough for me to move them in?”

“Anything for you, Baby Boy.”

It was a nasty scuffle, but Peter managed to get them all in the room and strapped to a table without the omegas hurting anyone other than Peter and Wade. After that, Peter had to go get the one still webbed to the wall and bring her inside. That created a new problem. They were out of beds.

“How many more were brought in?” Peter asked.

“We’re not sure,” admitted the head nurse. “You’ll need to get to the database. There are likely still some people on first floor and in surgery from the incident. They need to be informed of what’s happening. It could cause anyone under anesthesia to crash.”

Peter looked around at the beds and the occupants thereof. They were all covered in bruises, wounds, and blood. Some of them were still fighting against their bonds, others were struggling to breathe, one was shaking and crying uncontrollably. It was a horror show.

“I’ll take care of it,” Peter promised. “Just look after them.”

“You’re leaving?!” one of the other nurses froze in panic. “What if there are more?”

“We’ll be putting this room on lockdown,” the head nurse refused to even address the concerns of the other and just spoke to Peter. “I’m going to seal it for disease lockdown so we’ll be on our own air supply.”

“I’ll let everyone know.” Peter left the room and let them do what they needed. Looking over, Peter assessed Wade who was still leaning on a wall and catching his breath. “You okay?”

“I’m already healed. It’s fine.” Peter wasn’t sure about that given the blood still dripping down Wade’s outfit. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to track down any other omegas in here. I’m going downstairs to pull up the database at the intake desk. Can you check the rooms on this floor for more nurses? We need people informed as fast as possible.”

“On it. I saw some people peeking through windows on my laps.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” Peter ran for the stairs without a second thought. The database should also show what nurses were checked in as working. He needed to see if Aunt May was inside the building or not.

Finding the intake desk wasn’t too hard. There was a lot of commotion going on around it. Multiple people in the waiting room were blocking the doors that led into the rest of the hospital, including nurses and sick patients. Across from them were police officers yelling at them to move aside. That was when Peter heard her.

“I will not have you attacking sick and injured patients!” Aunt May declared.

“You are all obstructing officers of the law!”

“I take my own oath very seriously,” May returned. “And I will not have you endangering the lives of these patients!”

“Your patients are blatantly attacking police officers!”

One of the officers strode forward, intent on May, as she was the one most vocal about their stand off. The need to protect his family shot through Peter so hard his ears rang with it. He sprang forward in an instant, leaping over the intake desk to get between the two groups.

Peter knocked the officer near Aunt May back into the others and webbed them together. When they started yelling, Peter gagged them with quick shots of webbing. The whole thing barely took any time at all, but he was panting for breath and his spidey sense kept up a low buzz of alarm. Perhaps whatever had affected him still wasn’t completely out of his system.

After a moment of trying to calm back down, Peter noticed that it was silent. He looked over to find everyone staring at him in shock. He took a deep breath and did his best to not look at Aunt May. Thankfully, the gas mask would alter his voice, and the costume mask hid his face.

“We have a lot of those affected contained on the second floor, but the nurses there are out of room. We need more space for the rest, and I need to look over the intake data to find everyone.”

May looked Peter up and down, assessing him. She seemed to finally approve of what she saw and looked over to a fellow nurse. “Annabelle, help him out. I’m going to do what I can for those stuck here in the waiting room.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“And sir,” Aunt May addressed Peter.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Thank you for protecting those patients.”

Peter nodded and was finally able to let go of some of the tension in his shoulders now that he knew Aunt May and the others were safe. He followed the other nurse back over to the intake desk and they set to work, trying to account for all of the omegas who were tagged as being part of the incident earlier that day.

At final count, Peter was grateful that almost all of them were in the room on the second floor. One was in surgery and Annabelle sent someone there asap to warn the surgeons about the possible conflict in anesthesia. That left one unaccounted for, and one locked in a room on the ground floor already.

They worked with a few other harried nurses to find a new room they could put on disease lockdown. Two of them ran off to go set it up, and another ran to security to try and find the last missing omega. Peter headed to the room that the other was locked in.

Finding the right room was easy. It was the one where someone was screaming and pounding on the door. Peter busted the lock and swung the door open. He didn’t have to wait long on the omega inside. She immediately charged him, trying to escape the room. He wrapped himself around her to hold her down. She wiggled so much he was concerned about hurting her.

Just as he was about to head towards the designated room, a whooshing noise filled the hallway, drowning even the omega’s screams. With two loud clunks, the last person in the world Peter wanted to see landed in front of him.

_“Helpless, useless omega. Can’t even take care of himself, and he wants to save others?”_

_“Listen, you can’t be out here like this in the middle of your heat. It’s dangerous. He could have…”_

A wounded noise clawed its way up Peter’s throat. His grip on the woman in his arms tightened and she shrieked in response.

“Put the girl down,” Iron Man said.

Peter couldn’t get enough air. His breathing picked back up and his ears rang. It was suddenly much harder to keep hold of the woman in his arms. His muscles locked up but felt weak at the same time. Peter took a step back, struggling to remain in the present, and not think about all that happened in the past.

“I said…” Iron Man took a threatening step forward. “Put. Her. Down.”

The woman howled her displeasure, but Peter refused to release his grip. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if his muscles would even obey him if he gave them the order. Iron Man had no idea what was happening. All he knew was that the new merc working with Deadpool was holding captive a desperately fighting omega.

Metal rang and suddenly Wade was standing in front of Peter, katanas drawn. “Baby Boy, they’re ready for you in room 134. Keep moving.” Wade’s voice was calm and soothing.

Peter wasn’t sure how Wade already knew about the plan, but he didn’t ask, just decided to follow directions and keep to the plan. Perhaps Wade had already found the other omega and delivered them to the prepared room. Peter focused on that and took an unsteady step backwards.

“I don’t know what the hell you two think you’re doing,” Iron Man said as he raised his hands. “But you’re not going anywhere with that woman.”

“We’re helping!” Wade argued.

“Like hell.”

Iron Man’s suit whined and Peter let go of the omega on instinct. He webbed Tony’s hands together a moment later, but it was enough time for the woman to make a run for it. Luckily, she went straight for Wade who stumbled a little when she plowed into him. He tossed his katanas to the side lest she impale herself on them. Peter ran past them slammed the heel of his hand into Tony’s chest. With a metallic bang, Tony was pushed off his feet and slid a decent distance away along the floor.

Peter squared off against the Avenger but wasn’t aware of his shaking until Wade’s hand lightly dropped onto Peter’s wrist. It was at that point Peter remembered to breathe.

“Take the nice lady to the nurses,” Wade said.

“But—”

“No buts. She’s gnawing my ear off.”

Peter glanced over to realize that wasn’t a joke or exaggeration. She was honestly trying to claw his face off and was using teeth on what she could reach. Wade’s mask was oddly stretched and askew. Other than that, he seemed oddly composed for having been attacked so often since arriving at the hospital.

“Sorry…” Peter rasped. When he moved, the world felt unsteady.

“Let me handle this. You take care of the patient.”

Peter nodded and walked around behind Deadpool in order to find the best way to pull the woman off of him.

It was about that time Iron Man was back on his feet. “What the hell is—”

“Tony!” Hawkeye jogged into view, breathless and anxious looking. “Stop! They’re friendly.”

“Friendly?!”

Clint slid to a stop between the two opposing sides, panting for breath. At that moment, the omega successfully ripped Wade’s ear off and blood sprayed the hallway. Peter quickly had her restrained once more as Wade tried to hold his ear in place long enough for it to reattach. Amazingly, Wade kept himself from cursing or lashing out at the pain. He just stayed perfectly still and unusually quiet. Peter realized that was all for him, to help keep him calm in the face of Iron Man.

It made him feel sick.

Tony looked between the exasperated Clint, the freely bleeding Wade, the violently struggling omega, and the tense and quiet Peter. “What the _fuck_ is going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to me, you do not even know the DAYS and HOURS of effort I put into learning how to do CSS in order to make those words change color. I don't care if you lie to me, tell me it was worth it. T.T
> 
> So! A lot happened this chapter. I've been so damn excited to write about Peter losing control while under the influence of the drug. That scene has been stuck in my head for months as I planned this fic. lol I did a lot of stylistic things during that scene (other than just the problem colors from hell), and I hope they came across well.
> 
> I intended the hospital scene to be heavier than it ended up being. But, I mean, this is Deadpool we're talking about. Humor + horror is kinda his shtick, ya know? So I just went with it when it started happening because damn, things are heavy enough as it is.
> 
> Maaan, guys, I've been so stoked for this chapter. I really hope you liked it. ^.^' And thanks to everyone for helping this fic break the 500 kudos milestone! <3 I love you guys! <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for some smut. It's like 2/3 of this chapter, yo.

In a conference room in Avengers Tower, Peter nervously bounced his foot as he sat in one of the many chairs around the long table. The seat beside him was filled by Wade, but the others were dotted with members of the Avengers who were available. Peter did his best not to make eye contact, as he felt incredibly awkward about the entire situation.

Tony stood at the front of the table, explaining the incident to the others and how Peter and Wade had been involved. Not that Tony was using Peter’s name. He didn’t know it. Not that it mattered to Tony, who had immediately pegged Peter as Spider-man, effectively squashing all hopes that Wade was right and Iron Man didn’t remember what happened.

Tony remembered, and it left Peter sick to his stomach.

Wade was a silent and supportive shadow, never really leaving Peter’s side. It was a bit much, but Peter was grateful. Peter’s sullen glare only did so much. He made sure the others could see that, too, having taken off his fabric mask to facilitate it. The gas mask was still on, hiding his face, and only letting them see brown hair and brown eyes. Good luck to them finding anyone in New York City with only those descriptors to go by. Peter was confident in the safety of his privacy.

The others were giving Peter surreptitious glances, trying to figure him out. Black Widow was on a Stark pad, blatantly looking up information on Spider-man, uncaring that Peter could see her doing it. Captain America was guiltily looking over at the information occasionally as well. Peter tried to ignore them all, but that left him focusing on Tony, which he didn’t want to do, but should, given the situation.

“I’ve obtained a few scans of those still under the effects of the substance.” Tony pulled up a 3D holographic for them to see of a brain, with one part of it highlighted red. “In all of them, the amygdala was in overdrive, and it flooded their systems.”

“Flooded it with what?” Steve asked.

“Cortisol, epinephrine, norepinephrine, and AVP.”

“So, stress and adrenaline,” Natasha summed up.

“But isn’t adrenaline a fight or flight response?” Clint asked. “They were all fighting. Nobody was running away or hiding.”

“Exactly,” Tony agreed. “That’s where the AVP comes in.”

Steve sighed. “Tony, please, in layman’s terms.”

“Arginine-vasopressin, AVP, is a neurotransmitter in the amygdala that causes maternal aggression. All sexes and genders have it, but in omegas, as we know, it produces at nearly twice the rate. Stimulating that region in an omega would cause extreme anxiety and the need to fight off invaders to protect themselves and others.”

Tony pointed red spot in the image. “But this isn’t just stimulated, it’s out of control.”

Peter leaned forward, suddenly intent on the new information. “You mean to tell me that the fact that omegas have a stronger aggressive response is a well documented fact?”

Tony waved off Peter’s concerns. “Scientific fact and societal expectations are two different things and always have been. You wanna make a change? Join one of the many omega rights groups.”

Peter gritted his teeth, beyond unhappy at Tony’s patronizing tone. The others didn’t seem to thrilled with it either, and it occurred to Peter that perhaps Tony was known for speaking to people in such a way.

“The point is,” Tony continued. “This isn’t about just negating the effects of adrenaline, which the hospital is currently attempting with oxytocin, and fluids to flush it out of their system. The real problem is finding a way to bring the amygdala back to normal function and to block the AVP.”

“ _Is_ there a way to block it?” Natasha asked.

“They’re in animal trials right now to find better psychotropic options, but animals trials is a far cry from human application. I can get my hands on the data and start formulating what I can, but it will still take some time.”

“Which means we need to work fast and find out who’s doing this and why,” Steve said.

“It’s obvious why.” Peter rolled his eyes and sat back against his chair, arms folded across his chest, looking the picture of sullen.

Everyone looked at him like it was impossible for him to know the motivations behind the attacks. “You have a theory?” Steve politically asked.

“This was a trial to see how it worked.” Peter glanced around at all of them, annoyed that they weren’t catching on. “They intend to build up to a bigger scale. They want to make this an incident nobody forgets. One where the whole world is looking.”

“Why?” Clint asked.

“ _Why_?” Peter scoffed. “An incident in a city this large where omegas attack alphas would be talked about globally for years to come. It would be an upheaval of society as we know it, making omegas more terrifying than alphas are now.”

“But how can you guarantee they would attack alphas?” Natasha asked.

“Because every omega has a grudge against at least one alpha. Whatever that stuff is pulls up anger hard and fast, and the mind will attach it to the first thing it thinks of. An omega’s mind will _always_ think of alphas first. Omegas will _always_ assume that an alpha is the biggest threat to their safety and the safety of others they care about.”

A table full of alphas and betas stared at Peter in shock, as if they were just now realizing the plight of an average omega’s life. Peter glared at all of them.

“Everyone’s so damn focused on the _big picture_ ,” Peter ranted. “The Avengers only think about saving the world and as many bulk lives as possible. Nobody ever considers the effect the world has on the individuals. Villains don’t just appear in a puff of smoke. Something created them. Something affects their lives and causes this level of retaliation. Except this time, your villain is also considering the lives of other individuals, oppressed by a system everyone just goes along with.”

“You’re saying this person thinks that what they’re doing is helping?” Steve asked.

“Yes.”

“Helping the little guy,” Tony mused as he flicked rapid fire through other data and images in front of him. “Is that what you do now? Steal from the rich and give to the poor?”

“Back when I thought the world was worth me helping it, I did whatever I could.” Peter’s voice was dark. “I’ve been alleviated of that misconception.”

“Do you agree with this person’s method of forcing change?” Natasha asked Peter bluntly.

Peter thought about what it felt like being that out of control, or attacking and hurting people that he definitely did not want to hurt. What would have happened to his mind if Wade hadn’t stopped Peter from killing someone else?

“No,” Peter said. “But I understand why they think it’s a risk and a sacrifice worth making.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the others not sure what to think about that. Wade stretched and yawned, seemingly unaffected by the tense atmosphere. Tony’s eyes all but bored a hole through Peter’s skull through the holograms. At last, Tony closed everything down and looked at Steve.

“You take everyone else and search for what you can at the site of the incident. I’ll work on something to counteract the gas, which means I need Bruce.”

Steve shook his head. “You’ll need a different lab partner. He’s still busy.”

“This is important!”

“So is what he’s doing.”

Tony huffed in annoyance and ran a hand through his hair. “I at least need a competent assistant.”

Everyone at the table did their best to avoid eye contact with Tony. Peter rolled his eyes and volunteered. “I can do it. You want to keep me here under observation anyways, right? This way I’ll at least be doing something productive.”

Tony frowned at Peter. “I don’t have the time to teach you everything, kid, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Ooo, now you’ve done it!” Wade chuckled to himself and sat back to watch.

It was that attitude — that exact attitude — that caused Peter to lose his chances at a decent education. Because alphas just _assumed_ that omegas didn’t know what they were doing. Because alphas just _assumed_ that omegas were being needy attention seekers when offering to help.

Peter’s chest felt ready to rattle apart and his throat tightened against his instant response. He couldn’t lose his cool, not after being affected by the substance. Any rant of a retort he could come up with would be brushed off as just the effects of whatever was still flushing out of his system. No, he needed to keep this simple, and put Tony in his place as soon as possible.

So Peter, with barely contained anger, shot a glob of webbing onto the table and scowled at Tony. “Analyze that.”

There was a pause before Tony simply said, “Jarvis.”

“Yes, sir,” a disembodied voice responded. A few seconds later, a new holographic screen popped up, feeding the results of the webbing’s compounds. Tony’s eyebrows lifted.

“I made that when I was fifteen,” Peter said, voice hard. “In my garage. With spare parts. I rendered the elements I needed myself and built the components myself.” Peter leaned forward and waited until Tony looked over to make eye contact. “Go fuck yourself.”

Clint snorted and Wade giggled. Natasha slapped her hands on the table and stood up. “Looks like that’s been sorted out, let’s get going.”

Everyone wasted no time in running out, leaving just Tony, Peter, and Wade alone in the conference room. Tony awkwardly cleared his throat. “We can head over to the lab.” He looked at Wade. “But not you.”

Wade opened his mouth to say something, but Peter held up his hand. “No distractions. Go find something to do.”

Wade pouted and kicked at the floor like a sullen toddler. Tony gave them an odd look for such an interaction, but he didn’t say anything. He led the way to the lab and Peter followed along silently. It didn’t take long to get the layout of the lab and understand where Tony wanted to start. Despite Peter’s earlier harsh words, Tony didn’t seem to be overly aggressive in return. Or at least, not more than his usual bluntness.

They worked for a long time without conversation, only talking when discussing the next phase of research and testing. Peter didn’t have a lot of practical experience in a lab and had to ask how to work certain machines. Still, he was a fast learner and kept up with ease.

It was a few hours in that Tony finally started poking into Peter’s business again.

“So why didn’t you go to school for this?”

“Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Peter gritted his teeth and set something down a little too hard. “My scholarship was given to an alpha with worse grades than mine, because an omega shouldn’t have been applying to such esteemed universities.”

Tony took a moment to think about that before replying. “Mercenary business is pretty lucrative. You can’t take that money to pay for college?”

“At where? A community college?” Peter scoffed. “Even they would be questioning how someone so poor suddenly had the money to pay everything in cash. But even assuming I did manage to make it through, who is going to hire an omega with a bachelor’s in something other than teaching?”

“Education is education, kid.”

“Except it’s not.” Peter stopped and turned on Tony. “Maybe when I was a kid, I thought that was how it worked, but it’s not. I learned that the hard way after high school when the only jobs I could get were charity cases. When I cycled through all the programs that would hire me, it left me with no further options and the bank threatening to take the house.”

“So you turned to mercenary work?” Tony asked sardonically.

“No, I turned to the only job male omegas can do — selling my ass to alphas with violence issues. I’m about the furthest thing from a ‘kid’ that you will come across, so let’s move past that, shall we? I’m not who I was eight years ago.”

Tony finally looked uncomfortable. A dark part of Peter enjoyed that. He started moving again, going back to work. “I did prostitution for three years before Deadpool found me, so I’d say that’s a step up.”

“There have to be other options.”

“Are there? Would your company’s HR hire a person like me? And if they did, would it be as more than a janitor?”

Tony shuffled around awkwardly. He didn’t know. Tony may have owned the company, but he didn’t micromanage it. Other people took care of those things and he left it in their hands. He barely paid attention before Iron Man, and most certainly didn’t after. Peter was 100% certain of that and Tony didn’t argue it.

Silence resumed between them and Peter preferred it that way. He didn’t particularly enjoy having to wallow in his own bitterness against the world. He _hated_ having to deal with people who assumed the world was better than it was. People who couldn’t understand the lives omegas lived because of the blindness that accompanied their own privilege.

Sometime later, Peter hit the button on the centrifuge and then stepped back with a sigh. His eyes were tired and he felt light headed. Of course, all of the blood that was spinning was his own, as he tried to pull out components of omega cells to better understand why the compound only affected his gender.

Tony glanced up at Peter. “You need to eat.”

“I’m fine…” Peter mumbled.

“No, you’re not. You’ve lost a decent amount of blood just now. You need sugar, at the very least. I have a mini kitchen down the hall that’s attached to my workshop. Eat anything you’d like. I’ll watch that.” Tony nodded at all the things Peter had going. “It’s a waiting game for you right now anyways.”

“Alright…” Peter didn’t really want to take off the mask to eat just so Tony’s cameras could get a clear image of his face. However, he could at least take a sandwich outside or something.

The kitchen was easy to find, and walking in revealed Wade to be bustling around the area already. “I figured you’d come find food eventually.”

“I don’t know if I’m up for anything heavy,” Peter said, dubious of Wade’s usual grease laden food choices.

“I figured.” Wade pulled a salad from the fridge and placed it on the bartop counter. “Spinach for iron, hardboiled eggs for protein, mushrooms because they’re good for you, and bacon for yumminess.”

Peter raised his eyebrows at it. That was probably the most healthy thing he’d ever seen around Wade. To be honest, probably the healthiest thing Peter would ever eat. Wade slid a bottle of something fancy looking over by the bowl.

“Red wine vinaigrette? It looks posh as hell.”

Peter chuckled a little as he sat down. “It does.” He paused, his hand hovering over the mask on his face.

“I disabled the cameras a while ago. No worries.” Wade reached over and hit the button on the mask, causing the metal brackets to slide across Peter’s skin and slot back into the bulk at the front before the airlock released. “And the Tower’s been filtering good air in for the past few hours just in case.”

“How did you get around Tony’s system?” Peter asked.

Wade grinned, his own mask rolled up over his nose to show his teeth. “Not the first time I’ve done it.”

Peter took a deep breath, appreciating the smell of food and how it helped to remind him just how hungry he was. “Thanks for making me something.” Peter wasted no time in accepting the fork handed to him and digging in.

“Somebody’s gotta take care of you when you’re distracted,” Wade happily replied, pulling out a bottle of water for Peter as well.

Peter ate methodically and Wade propped his elbows on the counter, chin in his hands, to watch. It seemed to please him just to watch Peter eat. Perhaps a few months ago, Peter would have found that odd. Now he just accepted it as part of Wade’s (admittedly unique) personality.

When Peter finished off his salad, Wade slid over a piece of very expensive and elaborately decorated cake. “This looked like it was for a special occasion, so of course, I ate it.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why Tony hates you.”

“Ohhh, I know why Tony hates me, and it’s for far more than a lost cake.” Wade grinned and sliced off a piece for Peter. “Try it. It’s good.”

It was good. Peter’s eyes rolled back in his head when he took the first bite. Perhaps getting sugar in his system wasn’t so bad.

“That’s a nice face.” Wade hummed in appreciation.

Peter smirked. “Yeah?” He licked his fork clean, deliberately slow.

“Mmm, you’re gonna get me all worked up.”

“How awful,” Peter said in the least remorseful voice possible.

Wade walked around the counter and pressed himself up against the back of the chair, letting his broad shoulders surround Peter who leaned back into it. Wade’s warmth and presence was a much appreciated comfort after such an awful day. Peter let some of the tension release in his shoulders, closing his eyes and just relaxing for the first time in hours.

The body behind Peter shifted, and then he felt the fork being taken from him. There was a clink of metal on porcelain and then Wade’s warm breath on Peter’s ear. “Open.”

Peter let his eyes slit open, and then his mouth followed, opening enough to allow Wade to feed Peter more of the cake. He swirled it around in his mouth, relishing the taste of it, feeling a trickle of warmth start to seep into his skin at the knowledge of being served by Wade.

They continued like that, Peter staying pressed against Wade’s warmth, and Wade diligently feeding Peter bite after bite of cake. When only the back end of it was left, Wade stripped off his glove, picked it up with his fingers, and placed it manually on Peter’s tongue. Peter opened his mouth wide to accommodate the girth of Wade’s digits.

Wade didn’t drop the piece and pull back. No, he pressed it down against Peter’s tongue, smeared his fingers around Peter’s mouth, and dragged his thumb along Peter’s bottom lip. Peter languidly swallowed the bite and cut his eyes up to Wade who placed his fingers back in Peter’s mouth to have them licked clean. Wade was very obviously affected by their game.

When Wade slowly slid his fingers from Peter’s mouth, he swiped his thumb across Peter’s chin to scoop up a smear of frosting and suckle it clean. Wade hummed his pleasure at the taste as Peter licked his lips.

“Good?” Wade asked.

“Very,” Peter responded in a voice already dark with sex.

Wade’s eyes flashed, and instantly he was pulling Peter from his seat and over to the entrance to Tony’s workshop. “Do you know why Tony _actually_ hates me?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “So many guesses come to mind.”

They stopped in front of a very plain looking robot. It was less refined than Tony’s usual suits, and looked like it had been hidden away in a cabinet that Wade had dug it out of. All sorts of things were scattered on the floor by the open doors of said cabinet. Peter flicked his eyes around the mess and then back to the robot. He was still a little uncomfortable around anything that reminded him of Iron Man, but thankfully the robot was different enough to not trigger him too badly.

Wade pulled what looked like a remote from his pocket. It had a 3D display similar to the Stark pads, allowing for a multitude of different options.

“I found this years ago. Played with it, too.” Wade grinned, looking overly pleased with himself.

“What is it?”

“Horny teenage Tony’s greatest invention: a sex bot.”

Peter almost choked. “You’re lying!”

Wade hit a button on the remote and a crotch panel slid aside. Out popped a metal dick that locked into place. A second later, lube started oozing along the surface. Peter gaped at it.

“Holy. Shit.” What Wade had said suddenly occurred to Peter and he let out a startled laugh. “No wonder he was mad at you!”

“Mad is not a strong enough term.”

Peter looked over to see Wade wiggling out of his pants. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve had a stressful day,” Wade reasoned. “I thought you’d like to watch this thing go to town on me.”

“Wade… We really shouldn’t…”

“It’ll make you feel better!” Wade happily sing-songed.

Without further ado, Wade dropped to all fours and hit a button. The robot dropped to its knees and pressed forward, sinking onto Wade without any other preparation. Wade grunted at the forced stretch, but the robot seemed programmed to pause until the muscles relaxed enough to let it in. Once it was fully seated, it stopped moving.

Wade looked up at Peter, eyes already glassy with arousal, dick hard and heavy between his legs. “You like?”

Peter held out his hand and Wade obediently handed over the remote. Peter scrolled through the options as he casually walked around the spectacle of Wade being penetrated by a sex robot built by Tony Stark. It was both comical and arousing.

“How many times have you snuck in here to use this?” Peter asked.

“I lost count,” Wade replied, honestly.

“Dirty little slut.”

Wade moaned and his cock twitched, happy that Peter was already in headspace. Peter couldn’t let Wade have all the fun, though. After all, this was about helping _Peter_ to feel better. And what would make him feel better would be debasing an alpha in the home of an alpha he couldn’t stand to be around.

Peter hit a button and the robot took firm hold of Wade’s hips before starting up a brutal rhythm. Wade grunted with each crash of metal against his ass. Peter hummed to himself as he watched Wade’s body tense, both enjoying the rough treatment, and trying to push through it.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

“Yes,” Wade huffed out. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“You shouldn’t have _too_ much fun, ya know. That seems to get you in trouble.”

Wade made a disgruntled sound, but it was nothing compared to the noises he made at Peter’s next selection. One of the robot’s hands let go of Wade’s waist, and reached around to take firm hold of Wade’s cock. In a strange move that only mechanical digits could manage, a finger lined up against the tip of Wade’s cockhead. A soft motorized noise sounded, but it was drowned out by Wade’s guttural cry.

There was a clicking noise and then the robotic hand moved away to reveal the tip of a [sound](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1hkRrNFXXXXa3XXXXq6xXFXXX8/3-100mm-font-b-stainless-b-font-font-b-steel-b-font-catheter-font-b-sounds.jpg) sunk deep into Wade’s dick. Unrelenting, Peter pressed another button and the robotic hand moved to the base of Wade’s cock, wrapping around it in order to attach another device. Once settled around the girth of Wade, a thin band shrank to a tight grip, making Wade’s cock bulge around it.

Words tried to come out of Wade’s mouth, but it was hardly more than a strangled noise of half formed syllables, his eyes wide, and his mouth hanging open. Peter smiled as he toyed with the remote. The robot took hold of Wade’s wrists, pulled them tight behind his back, and used them as leverage to pound even harder into Wade.

Peter strolled over and crouched down in front of Wade to watch the desperate looks flash across the man’s face. “Good?”

Wade whined, spit already dripping down his chin.

“How long do you think you can keep this up? How long before someone comes looking for us to find you like this?”

“Guh… Fff…” Wade shuddered and his cock bounced, which only seemed to make him all the more sensitive.

“I wonder if they’d just leave you here and walk away. Or if they’d stop it and lock you up, never letting you find release.”

Wade panted for breath and his eyes begged Peter for release. With great force of effort, he managed to get his mouth to form a single wavery word. “ _Please…_ ”

“Already?” Peter chuckled. “Absolutely not.”

That caused Wade to tug against his bonds, but the robot was an immovable force. Unsurprising, considering its maker. Peter simply watched until Wade managed to calm back down and accept his treatment. The smell of alpha filled the room as Wade began to sweat.

“Or is it that you want something more?” Peter let his fingers brush over Wade’s throbbing dick. “Do you want me to jerk you off?” He wrapped his hand around Wade’s girth in a firm grip. “Even though you won’t be able to cum?”

Wade made a strained noise in his throat that got louder as Peter slowly pumped his hand up and down Wade’s shaft, squeezing enough that Wade would feel the press of the sound inside of him. Peter’s lips parted against quickened breath, his eyes drooping in desire. Watching Wade’s face was a joy. It flashed from pleasure to pain to desperation in waves.

Peter ran his thumb up and over the head of Wade’s cock, circling his nail around the trembling bit of metal poking from the tip. Wade whined, overstimulated and denied. It left Wade dependent on Peter. It left Wade at Peter’s mercy.

“You’re right,” Peter said. “This makes me feel better. And you, heh, you just _love_ it when I strip you of control.”

Wade nodded in a way that said he would agree to anything as long as Peter took mercy. That wasn’t going to happen. Peter smiled and hit a button on the remote. A faint humming noise echoed through the robot, but Wade more than balanced out the quiet with his half-scream half-moan as the metal dick in him started vibrating.

“Maybe I should leave you here. Go back to work. Come check on you when I need to relax.”

Wade’s mouth worked, but only garbled words fell out in return. He looked like he both did and did not want Peter to follow through on the threat. Peter could understand. He wanted to walk away, content in the knowledge that Wade would wait as long as it took for Peter to be satisfied. Of course, the part of Peter that had come to truly care for Wade couldn’t leave him on his own.

So instead, Peter pocketed the remote and slid his fingers up Wade’s cheeks, pulling the mask up and off of Wade’s face. He let it fall to the ground without much thought, his eyes riveted on Wade’s contorted features and watery blue eyes. Peter slid his thumb in a barely there touch along Wade’s lips.

“Do you want to taste my cock?”

Wade nodded and a greedy noise echoed in his mouth as he stretched it open wide. Peter smiled and stood up, pulling himself from his pants. He was already hard, extremely aroused by the proceedings, but thus far had been only focused on Wade. Still was, really, as Peter gave it hardly a second thought as he pushed his hips close to Wade’s face, only intent on seeing Wade’s mouth stretch.

Thus, it was almost a shock to feel warm and wet sliding over his cock, a needy tongue already doing its best to please him. Peter hissed and pushed a little further into Wade’s mouth, just enough to watch Wade’s throat work as he fought to override his gag reflex. Peter ran soothing hands over Wade’s head.

“Good boy.”

Wade shivered and his eyes went distant. His mind was shutting down under the onslaught of stimulation and the submissive actions. It sent a rush of satisfaction through Peter to see it. He couldn’t get over how amazing it felt to have an alpha so devoted to his desires, no matter how dominating or cruel they tended to be.

The hard thrusts of the robot jolted Wade’s body, causing Wade’s mouth to fuck Peter uncontrollably. However, it was a small movement, and Peter wanted more. He gripped Wade’s head to steady it, and then started pushing in at the pace he wanted, as deep as he wanted. It was all about his preferences, and Wade did whatever necessary to accommodate that.

Peter watched Wade’s drooling mouth with pleasure. It was stretched wide, the lips dragging in an odd way, and spit was being forcibly shoved down Wade’s chin. There was no grace in it, just a pitiful contorting of features trying so hard to give what was being demanded.

“I’m better than you,” Peter said, his breath coming hard and fast now. “I’m smarter than you, stronger than you, faster than you. I’m the only one that knows what you need and how to treat you. You’re _beneath_ me.”

Some part of Peter’s mind screamed that he was going too far, but it was drowned out by waves of lust. Wade made a strangled sound and his body convulsed, but nothing made it past the sound in his dick. He was having a dry orgasm from Peter’s words and ministrations, but the orgasm was being ruined by the cock ring and the sound that refused to let anything by.

Tears dripped down Wade’s cheeks as his body shivered relentlessly. It was amazing to watch, and Peter was so enamored by it, that his own orgasm caught him unawares. With a grunt through gritted teeth, he shoved himself down Wade’s throat and stayed there, forcing Wade to swallow desperately around Peter’s cock lest he choke on Peter’s seed.

Peter rode the waves of pleasure as long as he dared, twitching at every movement of Wade’s throat. Finally, he pulled back and allowed Wade to cough and gasp for air. Spittle dripped from his quickly softening cock, but he could care less. He was too distracted by the utterly destroyed look on Wade’s face.

“Perfect…” Peter whispered.

Wade looked up at Peter like he was some kind of deity that had blessed Wade with something amazing. Of course, he looked so far gone that there was a chance that his mind was indeed thinking such fantastical and disjointed thoughts. That left Peter feeling incredibly satisfied.

Crouching back down, Peter watched Wade’s face as it struggled to handle the treatment it was undergoing. The sight of it left Peter buzzing with pleasure as afterglow infused his system. When it seemed like Wade was finally getting control of himself once more, Peter decided it was time to up the ante. He was far from done with Wade.

Peter pulled the remote from his pocket and hit a button. A chest panel of the robot opened and a spindly metal arm with a single attachment came out. The attachment was a clear sheath with soft nubs all along the inside. The arm folded its way around Wade’s body and then slid onto his dick, setting up an even stroking motion.

Just to mix things up, Peter picked a higher vibration option on the metal dick in Wade’s ass, and a new thrusting pattern to accompany it. Wade’s eyes went wide, a tinge of fear in their depths. That sent a thrill through Peter, which was intensified by the noises Wade began to produce at his new treatment.

Peter lovingly stroked the backs of his fingers along Wade’s cheekbone, smearing the tracks of tears to be found there. “Do you like it?”

Wade’s eyes rolled and he didn’t respond. His body shook and jerked, and he keened at how intense the pleasure inflicted on him was. Still, Peter did not relent. It wasn’t time for Wade to find release.

“Answer me,” Peter demanded. “Are you happy right now? Are you enjoying yourself?”

It took three attempts, but Wade finally managed a garbled yes in return.

“Good. I like you like this. I like how out of control you are of your own body. I like that you can think about nothing but sex right now, no matter what might happen. I like that you can’t find release unless I give it to you. I like you being in _heat_.”

Wade jerked again, and the vein along his cock throbbed. He choked out a moan as yet another dry orgasm was ruined. The longer Wade went, the more frequent they would become — teasing at a release that he would continue to be denied. Peter’s skin tingled at just the thought of it.

Time slipped by, but Peter barely noticed. He was entranced by Wade’s face, the shaking of that large body, and the bits of ejaculate that managed to leak out around the sound. Wade was far gone, his mind having shut down coherent thought long ago. All he could do was stay trapped in that position and let himself be worked over at Peter’s discretion.

At long last, Peter allowed the sheath of soft material to stop rubbing and fold back away inside the robot’s chest. Peter ran his fingers delicately over Wade’s red and tender cock. It was hot to the touch and twitching around with need. Peter flicked his thumb over the protruding bit of metal. Wade keened.

“So perfect,” Peter breathed. “We should do this more often.”

A dreamy look tinged Wade’s face, underneath the pulled tight lines caused by hyperstimulation. Wade enjoyed it. He loved getting owned and destroyed by Peter. It left them both riding a high they couldn’t get from anyone else.

Peter gripped the slippery tip of the sound and carefully pulled, bit by bit, watching Wade’s face at the feeling of smooth metal sliding inside of his dick. When the sound was removed completely, Wade’s cock drooled precum onto the floor in a continuous stream, causing the alpha to whine pitifully.

Peter dropped the metal rod. It clinked onto the floor where it landed and rolled away. Peter didn’t give it a spare thought. Instead, he reached down and hit the latch for the cock ring, allowing it to open and fall away. It hadn’t even hit the floor before Wade was yelling, a single guttural sound.

Wade came untouched in thick ropey strips on the floor. It lasted a good while, his whole body shaking with the intensity of it. Even after it had passed, cum still dribbled from his cock like a leaking faucet that just wouldn’t stop. Peter reached forward and massaged Wade’s balls, encouraging what was backed up to continue to release so that Wade wouldn’t be sore later.

Sometimes, Peter found it odd how much he wanted to care for Wade even as he wanted to hurt the alpha. It seemed contradictory, but then, his world rarely made any kind of sense. Perhaps it was fitting, all considering.

The robot kept up its thrusts even as Wade lost his strength and hung limp in its unwavering grip. Peter wanted one more full release. He slid his hand up and started pumping Wade’s shaft again. Wade whined at the feeling, but Peter shushed him.

It took another few minutes, with Wade’s shaking increasing and fading out in waves, before he finally peaked again. He shot another full load, but the tight swelling in his balls eased to a degree that Peter was happy with. At last, he hit the button to stop stimulation. The robot’s cock disappeared back inside of itself with a soft hum and a click.

There was a button that simply said “clean up” and Peter selected it. The robot moved to pull Wade upright against its chest and held the alpha in place with one metal arm. Little spindly bits protruded from its sides with wet wipes and began to methodically clean the lube, cum, and drool from Wade.

When it was finished, Peter had it return to standby. Wade bonelessly fell forward, but Peter was prepared. Scooping the exhausted alpha into his arms, Peter walked them out of the workshop and back into the minikitchen. There was a couch in the corner of the room that Peter laid Wade out on.

Though Wade wasn’t coherent, he mumbled something at Peter, and it sounded pouty. Peter sat down on the floor and brushed his fingers across Wade’s head until the large man settled back down. Peter whispered nonsensical phrases about how well Wade had done. Wade had a content little smile on his face as he fell asleep.

Afterwards, Peter gathered up Wade’s pants, gloves, and mask, putting them all back onto the limp Deadpool. Peter knew that Wade wouldn’t like waking up to find his skin exposed to anyone that might happen to stop by the kitchen, especially Tony. Peter kept the mask rolled up over Wade’s nose, however, to facilitate breathing. He also dropped a bottle of water on the end table by Wade’s head for later.

It was at that point Peter remembered to stuff himself back inside his pants. Wade had simply been that distracting, that Peter forgot about himself.

Peter stared at Wade for a moment afterwards, trying to determine what it was that he felt about the kind of games they played. Or even how Wade himself felt about it all. What exactly had they become to each other?

 _A question for another time,_ Peter scolded himself.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked the messages that kept pinging in. Multiple ones were from Harry, asking if Peter was alright. He sent back a message guaranteeing that he’d been at home and was fine. The response from Harry was immediate, proving that he was still awake and obsessively checking his phone. Peter felt a tinge of guilt at being one more thing for his oldest friend to stress over.

There were also texts from Aunt May, letting Peter know there was an incident at the hospital and she was going to be staying the night there to help the next day as well. Peter sent her a text back and told her to make sure she took care of herself as well as the patients.

On the upside, that meant he could work all night without May worrying about where he was. On the downside, she’d be exhausted once she finally made it back home. One more step to being forced into retirement because her body could no longer keep up.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and shook such thoughts from his head. He had other things to focus on at the moment. Grabbing his gas mask, he headed out and back to the lab.

“You find everything you needed?” Tony asked as Peter walked back in.

“Yes.” Much more, in fact.

“Good. Your spinner is done.”

“Thanks.” Peter walked over to the centrifuge but was distracted before it made it there. A 3D rendering of something was hovering off to the side of the room. “What’s that?”

Tony glanced up and over to the image before looking back at his work. “We found the remains of a device at the center of the affected area. I’m having Jarvis run the pieces and reconstruct it to see if there are any defining markings to find out where it came from.”

There wouldn’t be. Peter knew that because he knew what the device was.

Back in high school, a scientist at Oscorp had created a new device to distribute vaporized product into a room for medicinal reasons. It did it at a faster rate, with a specific spin that helped coat a room equally in as little time as possible. It had multiple applications, but they wanted a new design for the product.

Harry had spent months coming up with a design to impress his father with. In the end, Norman had chosen something from one of his alpha employees. The prototypes and test products Harry had spent so long creating never saw the light of day. Of course, they never ended up branded with the Oscorp name, either.

Tony couldn’t possibly know that the device was something connected to Harry Osborn, but Peter did.

“Do you know something?” Tony asked, snapping Peter from his thoughts. He looked over to see Tony eyeing Peter’s reaction suspiciously.

“No. I’ve never seen it before. I was just studying it in hopes of recognizing it later.” Peter walked back to his station to continue his work.

“Sure…” Tony didn’t sound convinced, but it didn’t matter. Peter wasn’t going to budge.

There was no guarantee that Harry was the one behind the incident. In fact, it made no sense at all. Why him? What could he possibly gain from it? No, it was more likely that someone inside Oscorp was using the derelict containers for their own purposes. However, if the Avengers started looking into Oscorp, they’d find out about the criminal activity Harry was linked to.

It wasn’t Harry’s fault that he was entangled in his father’s machinations. Peter would do what he could to keep Harry out of jail. That meant Peter needed to track down the culprit himself. Once he knew who the criminal was, then they could be turned over without any further investigation.

The minute he could get out from under Tony’s eye, Peter would set to work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, I know exactly who the culprit is and the who-dun-it is going to be a lot of finger pointing in the upcoming chapters. Feel free to make your guesses, but I won’t be answering any questions on that to avoid spoilers.
> 
> AVP is a real thing, and they _are_ in animal trials for medicinal research currently. It really is a thing that everyone produces, but irl, nobody produces more than others unless there’s an abnormal imbalance, according to the research I did. In fact, most of the brain chemistry talk was all stuff I researched because I wanted my pseudo-science to be spot on. I spend so much time researching for bad science, omg. @.@
> 
> I also had to do research on salads (aka look up recipes and the nutritional content of the items involved) because that’s how anti-salad I am in my personal life. XD
> 
> That sex scene lasted forever, zomg. Also, that was my first time writing about urethral sounds. Good times. Helpful info on terminology used during the sex scene:
> 
> -Urethral sounds are medical devices, but can be used during play. Mostly, they are recreationally used with penises, as dudes state that jerking off with them is _quite_ the intense experience. They come in various sizes and styles. The thinner ones you can totally ejaculate around without issue. What I did during this scene with the added cock ring was the on the more intense side of the spectrum.
> 
> -“Dry orgasm” is when a dude orgasms without ejaculating. This can happen for various reasons, not just being plugged up, like prostate stimulation or during a multiple orgasm when there’s nothing left in the testicles.
> 
> -“Ruined orgasm” is when you start to orgasm, but it doesn’t finish. Usually, this happens when all stimulation is removed after the orgasm starts. All genitals can do this, and there’s a good portion of people that find it doesn’t feel relieving at all, and leaves them just as horny and on edge as it did prior. In Wade’s case, the cock ring and sound were preventing him from ejaculating, so the ejaculate couldn’t leave, thus the body shut it down to prevent damage.
> 
> -Speaking of damage, edging a person that long with so much ejaculate backing up in the testicles can cause issues, especially in Wade’s case since he was trying to cum but couldn’t, and also has his high refractory period. You want to make sure to empty the balls after such play, either by completed orgasms, or prostate milking. Keep one hand on the balls. You want to make sure the skin **stops** being bulging and tight, a darkened color, and hot to the touch. A very gentle massage can help drain things. The balls will be very sensitive, so it might be uncomfortable, but it’s necessary.
> 
> Thanks for attending Vixen’s sex ed class!


	11. Chapter 11

Wade offered to help supply Peter with a vast assortment of items needed to safely hack into the Osborn company’s system. It took some digging around, but Peter finally managed to pinpoint where the prototypes had been stored. At that point, it was a matter of going through the video feed to find out who had access and who had been in that storage block recently.

As the cameras rolled through footage, Peter made up a profile on each person he came across. They ranged from supervisors, to techs, to janitors. Peter did his best to research reasons as to why they would be involved in such a scheme.

The janitor had a heavy case built against him. He had an omega sister that suffered an assault in her teen years, had access to various places within the company (including secured areas), and ate with a collection of research assistants during lunch every day. He had the motive and the means, and he was in the storage block on a regular basis to clean.

The problem was, Peter never saw any sign of him pocketing something. The canisters in question were about the size of a soup can, and they were shoved far back in the shelving units of miscellaneous objects. Unless the man had a sleight-of-hand power, Peter couldn’t peg a point in time where the janitor would have come across the canisters.

Well, super powers weren’t completely off the table. Anything goes in the world they lived in.

Peter sighed as he pored through yet another video entry, freeze framing when the janitor passed by the goods and then fast forwarding through the dull parts as Peter waited for someone else to enter storage. The only other thing that Peter could think of was that the room had motion sensor lights. Perhaps someone knocked them out and entered while filming was compromised?

And also managed to not be filmed by the night cameras. Peter had to hand it to Norman’s security for his company — it was tight. Of course, that left Peter with no idea where to go next. Perhaps there were other canisters stored somewhere else? Or perhaps the plan was a long time in coming and the product had been acquired years ago.

“Maybe I should just start investigating the people on the list…” Peter mumbled to himself.

“Already on it!” Wade happily replied. “Your janitor there leads a boring life. No underground connections, no big legal connections either. In fact, I have him pegged as going to the same bar every night. He’s a by-the-clock regular.”

Peter groaned. His one good lead was slipping further and further from reach.

“You started from the day of the incident and worked backward, right?” Wade asked.

“Yeah…” Peter slouched in his chair. Hitting a button to rush through the next empty hours of footage. “I’m four months back at this point, but I’m still not seeing anything.”

“It’s a tedious process,” Wade sympathized. “I always hated this part of the research.”

Someone walked on screen and Peter hit the button to slow things down, waiting to see where they went. It wasn’t one of the people who regularly visited the area. The woman was in a fine silk top and a pencil skirt, sporting heels severe enough that Peter winced at the thought of walking the storage rooms in them. Her hair was long, wavy, and white blonde. It wasn’t until she turned to start checking item numbers of the shelves that Peter noticed her very ample bosom and it clicked who she was.

Felicia, Harry’s personal assistant. Felicia did everything for Harry, from taking calls, to compiling his schedule, to preparing his meals. Harry was even known to send her to finalize changes within the company since her negotiation skills were unparallelled. Norman hated her. He called her an indulgence of Harry’s that was often given too much power considering her position.

Peter thought about how much trust Harry had placed in Felicia, and how she was known to carry out every order he gave, no matter the request. She was a perfect assistant. She was fiercely loyal to Harry and was rumored to be trying to throw in her eligibility as a well-to-do beta that could fix Harry’s perpetually single status.

And right there on the screen, Peter watched as she pulled out the box he knew contained the canisters in question, moved some into her large purse, and then carefully set everything back the way it had been. Without seeming the slight bit ruffled over her actions, she turned and walked back out, chin high with professional purpose. Nobody questioned her presence.

Peter felt sick. Was it really Harry? Had Harry sent his assistant on a mission she’d have no clue was as dangerous as it ended up? Did Harry plot it all? Why? Why would Harry go through all that only to be terrified of Peter getting hurt? Peter was Harry’s only omega connection. Even with all signs continuing to point in Harry’s direction, it made no sense.

Wade whistled at Peter’s computer screen. “She’s got a rack on her, that’s for sure.”

Peter paused the video feed and fretted at his bottom lip. “Can you run a background check on her?”

“You sure?” Though Wade wasn’t saying it in so many words, he was questioning whether Peter should be focusing on the assistant instead of the Osborn that employed her.

“I’m trying to be thorough.”

“Riiight…”

It was an excuse, and they both knew it, but Wade was holding himself back from more than a sarcastic comment, at least for the time being. Peter closed his eyes and tried to calm his nerves. He had to stop letting emotion cloud his judgement. If it weren’t for his connection with Harry, it would have been obvious who all signs were pointing to.

Then again, if it weren’t for that connection, Peter wouldn’t have recognized the canister in the first place, nor understood how out of character it all was for Harry. He couldn’t afford to have something like that be tied to him, not with the tenuous position he was in, trapped between his father’s demands, keeping a good face for the company, and managing the criminal organizations that were after his father’s head.

Was someone trying to set him up? Was that something Peter should even be considering? He couldn’t tell where his emotional attachment ended and the facts began.

“Uhh, Petey? You might wanna take a look at this.”

Peter scrubbed his face and spun around in his chair. “What is it?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the underground network for any news on the Osborns.”

Peter almost stopped breathing. “Is there a hit?”

“Oh, there’s a hit, but it’s not on the Osborns. It’s for Norman’s nurse.”

“What?” Peter was out of his seat in an instant, rushing over to look at the information Wade had up. On the screen was a professional looking woman with shoulder length black hair and a lab coat, looking to be in her late thirties. Her name was Mariah Crawford. “Who put out the hit?”

“That’s where it gets crazy.” Wade pulled up the name, but Peter didn’t recognize it. “That’s one of Norman Osborn’s pseudonyms for when he’s dealing in bad shit.”

“Wait… So you’re saying Norman put out a hit on his own nurse?” Peter suddenly remembered the phone conversation he’d overheard the night he spent with Harry. Norman had been convinced that the nurse was trying to kill him.

“What do you want to do?” Wade asked.

“Shit…” Peter turned to look at his suit that was still a crumpled mess at the end of Wade’s bed. “Get me her address. I’ll go pick her up. In the meantime, I need you to find out whatever you can on her.”

Wade’s fingers started flying over the keyboard. “I have a few safe houses. I’ll give you the address to one. Try to get in and get out before the guns show up.”

In no time, Peter was suited up and out the door.

 

~*~

 

Hunting down Mariah’s apartment had been easy. Sneaking inside had been child’s play. Finding Mariah in the house took only a few seconds. Convincing Mariah to go with him, well, that was a little more complicated.

“Who the hell are you, and why are you in my house?”

Granted, those were reasonable questions for a woman in her position. After all, Peter was an unknown costumed man breaking into her home. Peter didn’t have a reputation, good or bad, for someone to draw conclusions from. Nobody knew who he was. So Peter didn’t fault Mariah for pointing a gun at him and being scared, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t frustrated. They were low on time.

“I’m trying to get you out of here before anyone else shows up. There’s a price on your head.”

Mariah took a step back and kept her features in a controlled mask. If she was surprised or terrified or disbelieving of Peter, it was hard to say. She was just doing her best to stay brave in a very uncertain situation.

“And how do I know you’re not just here to kill me for the money, then?” Mariah asked.

“If I was, I wouldn’t have gone about this by walking right up to you and telling you about it.”

“What if you want me alive?”

“The order is only proof of kill.”

“Who wants me dead?” Mariah asked in a surprisingly steady voice.

“Your employer.”

That part did get a reaction from her. She tensed up and her eyes went wide with fear. “He knows.”

Peter was about to question that when his Spidey sense went off in a _big_ way. He lurched forward and pushed them both to the ground. A rain of bullets from something fully automatic peppered the air over their heads. Fear shot through Peter as he realized how many of those bullets could be flying into other apartments and hitting innocent people.

Apparently, someone else thought that, too. There was a muffled shot from a gun with a silencer and a slump. Someone complained in the hallway about amateurs and collateral damage. How many people had already shown up to kill Mariah?

“We gotta go,” Peter said, hauling the nurse to her feet.

“I have to grab—”

“No time!” Peter pulled her towards a window, but they didn’t make it before whoever was in the hallways made his appearance.

He was clean cut, well dressed, and sported only a single black medical mask to hide his features. “No hard feelings, but this one is mine.”

Peter shot webbing at the same time the man raised his gun. It dropped to the floor in a glob of sticky and would be impossible to shoot. Mr. High Class Assassin didn’t find that very amusing. He pulled out a knife and charged Peter without another word.

All the training Peter had done kicked in. Wade was right, Peter didn’t need to rely entirely on his Spidey sense. He could assess incoming attacks on his own and counter them with more efficiency than just trying to jump out of the way. The man was good, but Peter was better _and_ super powered.

Webbing the assassin to the floor was really just double tapping. Peter had managed to knock the man out of commission on his own within a minute. He might have broken a few bones, but he only felt vaguely bad about it considering the guy was a paid murderer.

Once that was over, Peter realized that he’d lost track of the nurse. “Mariah!”

He heard something thunk in another room and headed there. She was grabbing things and quickly stuffing them in a bag. Peter insisted that they needed to leave asap. That time, she didn’t argue, just slung the bag over her shoulder, grabbed her purse and some shoes, and followed after Peter.

He decided not to waste any time and just took hold of her around the waist and started swinging them through the buildings to get as much distance between them and the apartment as he could. Police sirens were already making their way through the buildings below them. Mariah clung to Peter in silence, terrified of the distance between her feet and the concrete.

Once Peter judged their proximity safe enough, he dropped them down onto a rooftop. They could rearrange themselves and go at a slower pace to the safe house. First, however, he had a few questions he needed to ask.

Mariah was clinging to her bag in a tight grip as she stared at the unmoving gravel beneath her feet and gasped for breath. Peter was starting to get the sense that she didn’t like heights.

“Why does your boss want you dead?” Peter asked without preamble.

There was silence, filled only by Mariah’s gulps for air. Peter waited her out. It wasn’t like she could leave the rooftop until he was ready. There was nowhere for her to run and her gun was long gone.

“I don’t know,” she said at long last, her voice carefully neutral. “Everyone at the nursing agency has always been very kind—”

“Let me rephrase,” Peter snapped. “Why does Norman Osborn want you dead?”

Another careful silence, and then, “Norman is a very sick man. He is often addled and easily upset—”

“And it’s all fake. Look, can we cut through the bullshit already? I’m short on time, you’re in danger, and I need some answers.”

“How pushy,” a new voice purred from out of nowhere. “Such a _strong_ and _dominant_ man you are.”

Peter turned towards the voice and placed himself between whoever it was and Mariah, ready for a fight. The money Norman placed on Mariah’s head was significant, and it would be unsurprising if another costumed villain took the bait. However, the person that crawled over the edge of the building was not one Peter recognized.

And it was certain that he’d recognize her _anywhere_.

She was dressed in all black. It covered her from the neck down, with the exception being a very eye catching amount of milky white cleavage. White fur to match her hair adorned the V in her chest, as well as her wrists and ankles. She wore a simple black domino mask to pull the whole thing together.

Peter struggled to find an appropriate place to look, more than a little annoyed with himself for blushing so hard at her outfit, even if it did leave nothing to the imagination. She crouched on the edge of the building like she was posing, fully aware of how limber she was.

“You like what you see?” She grinned in a sultry way, running the pointed tips of her claws along her chest. “I like what _I_ see.” Her eyes looked Peter up and down and he could practically _feel_ it. She stood up, her movement like liquid, and Peter couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.

“Wh-who are you?”

“Oh, me? I’m just a friend.” She prowled closer, the picture of feline grace.

Peter wanted to defend his reaction. As a lonely omega outcast, he’d rarely gotten the attention of women in his life. Though his preferences didn’t lean heavily in any direction, he found women _much_ harder to navigate than men. And never in the history of his life had a woman so very blatantly flirted with him. Peter felt like a dumbfounded teenager.

“What’s your name, handsome?” she asked, voice low and smokey sounding.

Peter instantly regretted not taking Wade’s advice and naming his costumed self. Granted, he never expected to find himself spluttering like an idiot in such a situation as he was.

“How cute. Are you that star struck by me?” She giggled and Peter felt himself blush hot under his mask. He hadn’t worn the gas mask out, and he was regretting it. The closer she got, the more he could smell her. It was a distinctly beta scent, but underneath was something that just… smelled so amazing. She smelled so _good_. It was leaving him feeling fuzzy headed.

She was inches away from him now, and he didn’t know if he wanted her to touch or if he wanted to back away. She was just so… _hot_.

“Listen, cutie.” She grinned. “No hard feelings, yeah?”

Hard feelings? “Wha—” Spidey sense flared, but Peter didn’t have enough time to react. In a move that showed she was every bit as dangerous as she looked, a boot hit him square on the side of the face. And perhaps he would have been able to dodge it had Mariah not tased him in the kidney at the same time.

He went down hard, his whole body locking up in pain and shock. By the time it passed, the two women were already jumping off the rooftop and out of sight. A smoke bomb was left behind, spewing dark clouds everywhere so that he would be unable to crawl over and see where they were going.

Peter groaned and let himself collapse onto his back and take a moment to recover. He’d been completely played. And why? Because of boobs? Fuck, it was like he was fifteen again and going through puberty. What the hell?

On the upside, they had been working together, which meant that whoever the woman had been would protect Mariah from harm. On the downside, Peter wasn’t getting any useful information now. Hopefully, Wade had found something.

 

~*~

 

“Ouch, that looks bad. You need an ice pack?”

Peter grumbled something incoherently as he stripped off more of his suit. His face hurt and he could feel it swelling. He’d likely be mostly healed by morning, but it would end up a very colorful bruise.

Wade tossed an ice pack over and Peter caught it easily, annoyed but grateful as he pressed it to his face. He plopped down on the end of the bed and sighed. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Maybe. You wanna tell me what happened to you?”

Not really, but it was a fair question, all considering. “Two gunmen showed up for Mariah, but I got her out just fine. Halfway to the safehouse, someone else found us.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Peter gave a general description and Wade started laughing. He pulled up a picture on his phone and handed it over.

“That her?”

Oh, it was definitely her. In the picture, it looked like she was hoping the camera would catch her and posed at the perfect angle for it. After one run in with the woman, Peter was pretty sure that was exactly the case.

“Who is that?” Peter asked.

“Black Cat. She’s made quite the name for herself as a thief over the years, but only recently went costumed. The outfit has gone over well, to say the least. I gotta give her props for really taking the cat burglar angle and running with it.”

“Why is a thief working with a nurse?”

“They working together?”

“Yeah. When Black Cat showed up, Mariah tased me.”

“Well, you do look a little suspicious,” Wade snickered. Peter was _not_ amused.

Walking over to grab his laptop, Wade brought it back and sat down next to Peter, pulling up information. “Turns out, Mariah Crawford cut a deal with a crime lord years before Norman tried to take over all the criminal organizations.”

Peter was suddenly very intent on the information. “Why? What did she get out of the deal?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. Whatever it was isn’t mentioned in her file. They kept her on reserve and brought her in when everyone turned on Norman and he holed himself away in his ivory tower.”

“So she’s a spy?”

“Probably. It makes the most sense. And if she’s been in their group for that long, I imagine she’s made some friends.”

“Like Black Cat.”

“Looks like it.”

Peter frowned. “If Norman figured out she was a spy, then he’d end up pretty paranoid. That would explain the hit.”

“Well, you got her out and she’s with her crime buddies again. So, she’s fine.”

“But why is she making deals with criminals? Is there anything else in her background check? Arrest history? Family members in jail?”

“She’s all clean.” Wade shrugged. “Who knows. Coulda been anything, like paying off a debt or something.”

“There has to be more to this.” Peter reached for the laptop but Wade slid it out of the way.

“Peter… We know now why Norman ordered the hit, but that’s all his own issues, ya know? Do they have any connection to the gas?”

Peter clenched his fists. He knew what Wade was getting at. “They might.”

“Having omegas go crazy and kill alphas doesn’t help or hurt Norman. He doesn’t allow omegas anywhere near him or his company. It would hurt the crime organizations more than it would anything else. As a nurse, Mariah would be breaking her oath to kill that many people. Black Cat has no kills or direct combat recorded.”

Peter huffed and stood up in order to pace the room. “We should follow any lead we can.”

“I agree, but this doesn’t even feel like a lead. I can keep looking into it, but it feels like you’re grasping at straws because…” Wade didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to.

The truth was, Peter _wanted_ them to be the problem, but Wade was right. Nothing pointed to them as the culprit. Everything pointed instead to the one person Peter didn’t want to accept.

Peter stopped walking and took a deep breath. “Find what you can. I’m going to work on hacking into the security system for Harry’s penthouse.”

 

~*~

 

Watching the video feed of storage, as boring as it had been, was far better than watching Harry’s personal penthouse and office. Peter discovered that Norman had installed cameras that Harry wasn’t aware of. The man was on 24/7 surveillance from not only his father but now from Peter. However, Norman likely didn’t care about what he was seeing.

Peter cared, and it bothered him a lot.

It was a front row seat to watching how much Harry overworked himself, and how constantly stressed he was. Though Peter still hadn’t come across anything useful in regards to the gas, he did get to discover how many death threats Harry received on a regular basis. He witnessed Harry puking into a trashcan from nerves as crime lords demanded ever more unreasonable things from him. Peter also watched as Harry poured out his aggression on a punching bag after every abusive conversation with his father.

It was horrible to watch and Peter wasn’t sure how much more he could handle. Thankfully, Wade would offer to take Peter’s place whenever he could. Peter would sometimes go to Avengers Tower to help with the research while Wade looked over the endless amount of video. Peter re-checked every interaction Harry had with Felicia, but the canisters, the gas, and any research into omega biology were never mentioned.

The closest they came to talking about omegas was when the news first started reporting on the serial killer. Peter watched Harry frantically text, and then listen to the conversation they’d had from Harry’s perspective. Harry had been close to hyperventilation. He’d collapsed to the floor afterwards and Felicia had comforted him, whispering soothing words as he leaned against her chest.

Peter found it all highly emotional and conflicting. He hated having to spy on Harry, and he hated seeing Harry care so much only for Peter to be so suspicious. It left Peter lashing out at others, or fighting off tears, or avoiding food because he felt too nauseous. When he asked Wade to look up whether there were any jobs to take on a football player that was recently charged with animal abuse, Wade finally spoke up.

“Ya know… You’ve been avoiding wearing clothes for a while now.”

“Why would you even complain about that?” Peter snapped. “Besides, it’s fucking hot!”

“There’s frost on the windows.”

“On the _outside_ of the windows. You have the temperature up too high!”

“My space heater isn’t even on.”

“Then it must be you! You’re too big!”

Wade sighed. “Petey, darlin’, I think you’re in pre-heat.”

Peter froze as the truth of it slapped him in the face. _Shit_. He was due for a heat soon, but considering everything else that had been happening, it slipped his mind. He stormed over to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. He was dying of thirst. Yet another sign, if he were honest.

“Whatever. I’ll take care of it when it hits.”

“Take care of it?” Wade pouted. “Why does it sound like you’re gonna do it by yourself?”

“Because I am.”

“But _whyyy_?” Wade whined. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Peter snapped. “I always take care of my heat on my own.”

“But heats are _fun_!”

“No. They’re not.”

Wade studied Peter in a way he didn’t appreciate. “Have you ever shared a heat with someone?”

“I don’t have to.”

“Isn’t that painful, though?”

Sometimes, it was inconvenient that Wade seemed to know so much about how omegas worked. Most alphas didn’t pay attention. Though that certainly had societal backlash, it meant Peter was never questioned in situations like he was in currently.

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter said. “I kill it within a day.”

“How?” Wade sounded upset about that. He had a right to be. Heats usually lasted _much_ longer without an alpha around, and they did get progressively more upsetting without alpha smell and pheromones to breathe in and/or absorb. Peter hated how his body craved that.

“Why do you want to know?” Peter started pacing, feeling restless and antsy.

“Why am I not allowed to ask?” Wade countered.

Peter ground his teeth. It was a reasonable question. If he had just brushed it off instead of getting defensive, then it wouldn’t have been a problem. Some omegas sent their bodies into shock during a heat in order to stop it. It sent a signal that the omega wasn’t healthy enough to bear children. Peter didn’t take such drastic measures, but he understood why Wade was worried about it.

“I have a dildo with a knot and a shot full of pregnancy hormones. A few hours of effort and I can trick my system into thinking I’m knocked up. That’s the whole point of a heat, right? So it’ll stop afterwards.”

Peter disliked talking about that. It was an unconventional method to be sure, and he hated how he needed female hormones to trick his body into thinking it had accomplished the impossible in his male body. It always left him feeling very… untethered from himself.

Not to mention, people always seemed to have some kind of comment about the process. Peter didn’t want to talk about it with them and he didn’t want their opinion. He just wanted to avoid the topic and move on.

Wade sighed. “Why don’t you want to enjoy your heat?”

Peter was a little thrown that Wade had skipped over Peter’s methods and went right back to wanting to share a heat. “What’s there to enjoy?”

“Uhhh, the _sex_?” Wade scoffed. “C’mon, Baby Boy. Heat sex is _intense_.”

No, heat sex was distracting. It meant that the body was ready and willing for anything that came along. It meant being out of control. Heat was a terrifying inconvenience and that gave everyone around the omega an excuse to take whatever they wanted. Just like when he was a teenager. Just like when Doc Oc—

“Hey…” Warm hands pressed on either side of Peter’s face. Wade kept his voice soft and soothing. “Don’t make that face, Petey. You know I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

Peter closed his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled into Wade’s embrace. Wade smelled like alpha, but more than that, he smelled familiar. It was soothing, and Peter felt his body reacting to it. His muscles relaxed, and his agitation started ebbing away. The warmth along his skin took on a different context.

“I told you before that I’d chop off my dick rather than go at someone against their will. I’d do the same thing even in the middle of your heat. If you end up upset, if you want to stop, I’ll stop. You know that, right?”

The problem was, Peter _did_ believe that. He didn’t want to. He’d spent his whole life learning one harsh lesson after another, all piling up as a case against every alpha in the world. Why did Wade have to walk in and shatter all of that?

“What if it doesn’t stop?” Peter mumbled.

“It stops when your body is satisfied.” Wade rubbed his hands up and down Peter’s back in long, languid motions. “If by some miracle, I, with my marathon stamina and fabulous skills in bed, cannot manage to satisfy you, I’ll give you the shot myself.”

“Wade…”

“Look, you can say no. You can say no and I’ll back off. It’s just that I hate that you got this feeling that going into heat is something to be afraid of. More than that, the idea of you in pain and desperately needing alpha pheromones, _my_ pheromones, and I’m not there to help you… It bothers me. I know I got no claim on your fine ass or anything, but… Ya know… I wanna be there. For your ass. In its time of need.”

Peter was silent for a long time, thinking about it. He knew Wade wouldn’t push if Peter truly put his foot down. If he gave a hard no and locked himself in his room, Wade wouldn’t hunt Peter down. Yet, the thought of Wade not coming for Peter was almost painful to think about.

Stupid biology. Stupid hormones. Stupid alphan attachment.

“So…” Wade prodded.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation.”

“Yeah. A boring one. We’ll keep an eye on the live feed. It’s just a waiting game right now as it is. A single night won’t make a difference.”

“Just one night? You think highly of yourself.”

“You should know.”

Peter did know. He had personal experience.

Not to mention, he was barely functioning as it was, having to deal with his pre-heat emotions in such an upsetting stake-out was rough. Peter could barely focus on what he was seeing on camera anyways. And every time he killed his heat in the past, he’d been emotionally off kilter for a few days after. Perhaps actually sharing a heat this once would be beneficial to him in the long run.

“Fine,” Peter grumbled. Wade’s arms tightened, and Peter’s body sang with the feeling of it. “But I can never exactly pinpoint when it’ll hit full force. We could still be waiting a while.”

“Oh, I can help with that.” Wade’s voice was full of dark promise. “You’ve just never helped your body along the right path. Don’t worry. I’ve got _plenty_ of ideas.”

Peter shivered and his body reacted. It knew well how fun Wade’s ideas usually were.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let’s [talk](https://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/2/25674/2334213-untitled_scanned_18.jpg) about [how much](https://static.comicvine.com/uploads/scale_super/2/25674/1739350-ghjkil.jpg) I [love](https://static.comicvine.com/uploads/scale_super/2/25674/2284882-blackcat_007.jpg) Black Cat [and](https://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/2/25674/2284881-blackcat_0070.jpg) Spider-man [interactions](https://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/2/25674/1727140-1722369_ballast_super.jpg). That is to say, Black Cat’s boob jokes and Peter’s inability to function around her boobs are canon. She uses this power to its fullest extent. XD
> 
> I hope y'all are ready for some heat sex next chapter because that's the entire damn chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times, oh yeah!

As Peter walked across the room to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge, he could feel Wade’s eyes on him. When Peter’s legs stuttered and his breath hitched, he could feel Wade’s smirk. With great strength of will, he managed to make it back to the couch without incident, head held high, walking at a slow and steady pace.

Wade grinned, not paying attention to the lewd noises and images flashing across the TV. Peter carefully sat back down in his spot between Wade’s legs, only whining a little as he lay back on Wade’s chest. Thankfully, Wade hadn’t argued Peter’s request for full nudity between them, and the skin to skin contact felt like _bliss_.

Pressing his face into Peter’s hair, Wade took a deep breath. “I can smell it,” he said, his voice taking on a hint of drunkenness. “Admit it, my methods work.”

Wade’s “methods” for accelerating Peter’s heat had been watching porn on the couch while cuddling. Also, anal beads. Peter shifted around and felt the evil things inside of him squirm in all the right ways. It was a barely there touch on his prostate along with a constant pressure on his insides that took the edge off the ache that usually accompanied his pre-heat.

Frankly, Peter was a little mad at how well things were working out. Porn and sex toys just seemed like a ridiculous combination for what was a serious problem. Yet, there he was, flushed, horny, craving more. Stupid Wade and his stupid methods.

Peter refused to answer Wade and instead chugged his bottle of water. One of the many problems with heat was how thirsty he always ended up. It was the body’s way of hydrating in preparation for the amount of slick and sweat he’d end up producing. Still, it was annoying to feel constantly parched even as he chugged bottle after bottle of water.

Wade slid his hands around Peter’s chest and stomach, taking his time to make sure he caressed every inch of skin. Peter couldn’t help but squirm at the feeling of it, and the beads inside of him shifted with the movement. He was so full of slick already that the tiniest of movements would set them in motion.

“How much longer until it hits?” Wade asked, his voice deep as it rumbled its way into Peter’s ear and down his spine.

“I don’t know…” Peter mumbled.

That was a lie. Peter normally didn’t wait this long to do what needed to be done. He was well past his usual threshold of tolerance. It had been a very long time since he’d allowed himself to fall this far into his heat without doing something about it.

Most of the reason for that was because Peter wanted to see if Wade could really hold off. It was some kind of twisted need to prove to himself that Wade wasn’t some magical alpha that broke all the rules. Eventually, Wade wouldn’t be able to hold back. Eventually, Peter’s no would be useless.

Even worse, a small part of Peter was enjoying it. He liked feeling safe and comfortable in Wade’s arms. He liked the buildup of need and desire that was slowly numbing him to all else. He liked the anticipation of knowing how good the sex would be with Wade. The scientific part of Peter wanted to see just how far out of control his mind would get.

It was both terrifying and exciting. He had no idea how to feel about any of it, so he just sat there and tried to ignore it. As if he could somehow put off the inevitable and live in that state of anticipation forever.

Wade pressed his face against Peter’s neck, his nose pressed against the scent glad as he breathed in deep. “You’re nervous.”

Peter cursed. “How do you do that?”

Wade chuckled. “I just pay attention, that’s all.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Peter just grumbled and tucked his face into the couch cushions. He didn’t want to talk about it. They both knew why Peter hated going into heat, and talking about it wasn’t going to help his current anxiety. Even if Wade could somehow magically overcome his biology, Peter wouldn’t stop wondering if he was really in control of the situation or not.

“So,” Wade said in an annoyingly reasonable voice. “We are two consenting adults that have consented to have sex with each other and have a history of enjoying really long and rough sessions.”

“Your point?” Peter mumbled into the cushions.

“If we both fall into mindless sex and have no control over it, what does it matter? Aren’t we doing exactly what we set out to do?”

“It’s not the same.”

“That’s true. You’re a lot stronger than me. You could wrap your legs around my waist and snap me in half like a twig!”

Peter twisted around in order to glare at Wade. “That’s not funny!” Peter _had_ hurt Wade while out of control. It wasn’t something to joke about!

Still, Wade was smiling. He brushed his fingers along Peter’s cheek. “Should I be mad at you? It was a situation that was out of your control, but we both came out of it alive and healthy. It was a man-made chemical that went well beyond what the body can normally handle, and you still managed to snap out of it. You overcame the odds while they were stacked against you. Do you want me to hold a grudge over that?”

Peter was conflicted, and he felt it show on his face. He understood what Wade was getting at. An alpha falling into rut was just as compromised as an omega in heat. If everything happened according to plan, would Peter still blame the alpha for not being in control? If an alpha in rut couldn’t be trusted, did that mean an omega in heat couldn’t be trusted either?

It was a complex issue, and not one Peter felt ready to address in his current condition.

“Baby Boy, if I give in to my instincts, all that’s going to happen is some _really_ boring sex. And I can understand if you’re miffed about that afterwards, but is that reason to hate me for it?”

“I don’t want to hate you…”

“This right here is the present. This is _me_. You’ve been around me when I’m in rut already. All your heat can do is pull that out of me again. Was I a mindless brute?”

Peter closed her eyes. “No…”

“Then what’s different now?”

“I was in control.” It was a whispered confession and the basis of all his fears. Even with the worst of alphas, even in the middle of sex, even when they were in rut, Peter was always in control. Peter was aware and capable.

He didn’t feel like that at the moment. His body felt too hot, his mind felt like it was swimming in syrup, his instincts were at odds with themselves. _If_ something happened, Peter didn’t feel confident in his ability to do something about it.

“You don’t feel in control right now?” Wade asked.

Peter didn’t want to answer, so he stayed silent. Not that it mattered. Wade could see right through Peter. He peeked his eyes open, looking at Wade’s soft face and the quirk of a smile on scarred lips.

“Then I guess you’ll have to trust me.”

Trust. It was almost laughable. When was the last time Peter fully trusted anyone? In many ways, he still didn’t trust Wade, or feel like he knew much about the man at all. But when it came to intimacy? To Peter’s safety? To Peter’s overall comfort?

Peter did trust Wade with those things. Wade had proven himself time and time again. Eventually, Peter couldn’t deny the truth of it. When it came to Peter’s emotional, mental, and physical health, there was no one he trusted more than Wade Wilson.

“Okay…” Peter whispered.

Wade looked far too pleased with himself as he pulled them together into a kiss. In strange juxtaposition to their very serious conversation, someone on the video that was playing let out the most over the top moan. Peter wanted to complain, but his thoughts scattered at the feeling of Wade’s hands roaming across his skin once more.

Thick fingers slid down the valley of Peter’s ass and pressed against the dripping hole, shifting the beads once more. Peter sucked in a breath and rocked his hips, desperate for more already. Wade grinned against Peter’s lips.

“Since your heat is taking so long. How about we play just a little?”

Damn. Peter was more than ready to just get things over with after their discussion and deal with the fallout later, but he was loath to admit that, not after denying how close he was for so long. So instead, he allowed Wade to reposition him so that he was straddling Wade’s lap and leaning on Wade’s shoulder.

“There you go. Just like that. Stick your cute little butt out there for me.”

“Shut up,” Peter grumbled.

Wade was undeterred and was just oozing happiness as he twirled his finger around the string hanging from Peter’s ass and started to tug. Peter grunted as the first bead pulled at his muscles and then popped out, dripping with slick. It had hardly taken any effort, given how wet he was.

Taking firm hold of the single ball outside of Peter’s body, Wade twisted it, causing those still inside Peter to twirl in odd ways. He squirmed at the feeling, but that didn’t help at all, as he was very sensitive at the moment. The feeling of it all shot straight to his cock.

“Too bad you’re not ready yet,” Wade said as he teased out another bead, causing Peter to shudder. “If you were, I could just start fucking you already.”

Peter bit his lip and forced himself not to say anything he’d regret. Maybe once Wade had them all out, he’d be unable to follow through on his implied patience. Wade would eventually break. He’d be dying to fuck before Peter ended up begging for it.

…Right?

Such hopes were shattered when Wade started pushing the beads back inside once more. A whine built in Peter’s throat, but he cut it off. Wade hummed and started grazing his teeth along Peter’s shoulder.

Once all of the beads were back in, Wade’s finger followed. Peter did make a noise that time, loud and abrupt. With Wade’s finger alongside the beads, it _almost_ felt like enough of a stretch. Peter’s body yearned for more, screaming at Peter that he needed to be filled.

Wade swirled his finger around, pressing along the aching skin like a relieving balm while shifting around the teasing beads. Peter bucked his hips, his cock wanting to feel something and his ass begging for more attention. His hands wrapped tighter around Wade’s shoulders, fingers digging into flesh.

“Is it too much?” Wade asked it like he knew better, and they both knew he did. “Should I go slower?”

Peter moaned in distress, but it didn’t deter Wade. His finger slowed down, gliding along Peter’s insides at a pace Peter didn’t think the restless Wade would be capable of. Peter’s breathing kicked up again and sweat started gathering along his spine. Bright, tight, and burning settled in Peter’s belly, but it was going nowhere fast — just there as a constant reminder of what Peter wanted.

“Do you want more?” Wade asked, his voice dark with promise. Peter nodded, his mind slipping away from him already, causing him to forget why there was a delay in the first place. “Maybe if I touch you a little, you’ll get in the mood.”

“Please,” Peter breathed. That sounded like the best idea in the world. Yes. He needed to be touched. He needed to be filled. He needed _more_.

Wade’s other hand wrapped around Peter’s very hard cock. In the background, someone in the video started expressing their approval. Like some kind of strange hive mind, Peter followed suit as he uncontrollably thrust into Wade’s hand.

“Oh, yes! Yes!”

A deep chuckle was the response, along with a flood of pheromones that left Peter’s head spinning. Wade was happy, interested, and so very aroused. It pleased something deep inside of Peter. It filled him up with champagne, leaving him inebriated and tingling all over.

Wade’s hands remained slow and methodical, working Peter over, building up pressure, sending his desire sky high. It left Peter teetering on the edge, drowning in how close he was instead of actively working for release. Normally, he would have complained, or tried to physically push things along, but it was like he was nothing but putty in Wade’s hands, helpless to the man’s ministrations.

The finger inside of Peter started purposefully moving in such a way that the beads continuously shuffled over that spot inside of him. It sent jolts of pleasure through him, numbing his mind to all else but the sensations buzzing along his nerve endings. He murmured words that he was barely coherent of saying.

“You sound like you’re close, Baby Boy.” Wade’s voice was almost a growl, his body reacting hard to being surrounded by a cloud of desperate omega. “Are you finally ready?”

“Please,” Peter whined before panting for breath. His body was trembling, full of too much pressure and not enough release.

Wade slid his finger out and Peter let out a wild noise of distress at the loss of it. The hand on his cock picked up the pace in return as Wade once more took hold of the sodden string hanging out of Peter. He knew on a deep level that Wade was pleased. It probably hung in the air as Wade shed pheromones like a smoke stack. It helped keep Peter calm and allowed him to focus on his orgasm that was finally, blissfully, close.

“Tell me when you’re going to cum,” Wade demanded and Peter’s body sang with the need to obey. Listening to Wade was a great idea. Wade had the best plans. Peter could trust Wade.

“Ah!” Peter thrust his hips, whining at the lack of something filling him in the ways he wanted. The beads taunted him with what he didn’t have.

Wade’s grip tightened just the slightest bit and his finger tugged gently enough for the beads to press against Peter’s entrance without slipping out. Peter clenched his muscles, wanting to _feel_ more, wanting to finally push past that barrier holding him back.

“I—”

“Tell me,” Wade instructed once more.

Peter curled forward, holding onto Wade as if he was the only thing keeping Peter grounded. Pleasure, sharp and insistent and undeniable, built high within Peter, tensing his stomach, making him dig his nails into flesh.

“I’m! It’s! I!” Peter choked, unable to get out any further words even as his jaw hung open.

“ _Come_.”

Peter let out all of his breath in the form of a guttural noise of relief. Just before the first spurt of cum could make it out of his dick, Wade tugged on the string, pulling the beads out at a steady pace while Peter came. If there had been any breath in his lungs, he would have screamed at the intense sensation of his ass sliding open and closed around each bulb as he came hard onto Wade’s stomach.

The beads fell to the couch with a wet thunk, followed by a trickle of slick. Peter shuddered as his body tried to make sense of how intense that had just been. His skin felt like he was touching a live wire and his mind was spiraling off somewhere far from earth. He sucked in air as his body trembled with aftershocks.

It took some time before he became aware of Wade’s hands gently rubbing over Peter’s skin, reverent and soothing. Soon after, Peter noticed other things, like how painfully empty he felt, and how hard his cock still was. He whined, burying his face into Wade’s neck and taking a deep breath of the scent gland to be found there.

Alpha smell flooded his system and helped him no longer feel like he was on the verge of tears. His body still ached and felt upsettingly unfulfilled, but he no longer felt terrified of the feeling. After all, his alpha was there. His alpha would take good care of him. There was no need to to worry.

“ _Fuck_ , Petey, if you even knew what you smelled like right now…”

Unable to think of any words to respond with, Peter pressed his body closer, needing the contact, needing to find a way to get Wade to _hurry_. Wade groaned at the feeling of Peter clinging to every bit of skin available.

“You ready?” Wade asked.

Peter sunk his teeth into Wade’s neck and the larger man hissed at it.

“I’m going to fuck you until you melt, okay?”

See? Wade had _all_ the best plans. Peter purred, nuzzling his face along rugged skin, nipping at the parts that begged for his teeth.

There was a moment of disorientation, then movement, and then something soft under Peter’s back with Wade’s weight pressing down on top of him. The bed. Ah, yes. Beds were a good idea. Soft but firm. Plenty of room. Ideal for mating. Wade had the best ideas. Smart Wade.

Peter squirmed, trying to find what he wanted. Maybe he could just wiggle around until Wade’s cock slipped inside. Why wasn’t it inside already? A strange whining noise built in Peter’s throat, his body displeased with the delay.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now,” Wade groaned.

The weight lifted off of Peter and he clawed at Wade’s skin in distress, wanting it back. Before he could even think about forming words, he was flipped over onto his stomach. The feeling of the fabric on the sensitive head of his cock caused him choke on air before rutting against the sheets.

“ _Present_ ,” Wade ordered.

Excitement and electric arousal shot through Peter. Yes. Present. Smart alpha, remembering what was best. Peter immediately slid his body into position — chest to the matress, ass in the air, legs hip length apart, his arms gripping the sheets above his head. Slick dripped from his hole, sliding down over his taint in ticklish little drops.

A tongue swiped along the trails of slick. Peter jerked at the sensation of it before pressing back into it. It felt amazing, and it thrilled him to know that his alpha enjoyed his body, but it wasn’t enough. Peter’s hole pulsed with the need for something to fill it.

Then, like a prayer answered, Wade shifted positions and pressed against Peter’s entrance. There was barely any resistance. As Peter cried out his satisfaction, Wade easily slid inside. The feeling of being filled had Peter’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh, sweet Odin you’re so hot inside.” Wade’s voice was strangled as he slid out and back in. “You’re _pulsing_. Fuck.”

Peter could hardly focus on that. All he cared about was the feeling of being full, of the delicious glide of Wade’s cock inside of him. Alphan chemicals being absorbed by his omega body, finally feeling satisfied that they were doing what Peter’s body demanded. It was a rush. It sent him flying so high that Peter wondered if he’d ever fall back to earth.

Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he wanted to stay in that state of euphoric bliss where nothing else in the world mattered. Not his past and not his future, not their gender or their sex, not their social status or the pressures of society. It was gone, obliterated in a rush of hormones and chemicals pumping through their veins.

Peter could just _give in_ and not have to worry about what it all meant. All he wanted was his alpha and all his alpha wanted was him. What did anything else besides that matter?

“Wade…” Peter breathed out, his thoughts on the matter weaving through the word. Wade bent over, pressing their skin together as his hips thrust into Peter, strong and unstoppable.

“You’re so perfect, Peter. So perfect.”

The words flowed through Peter on a tide of satisfaction. He barely even noticed the sensation caused by Wade pressing on all the right places. Peter was too distracted by relief and contentment.

“I’m gonna fuck you all night.”

“Please.”

It was funny. Though Wade held true to such a promise, Peter never felt pushed past his breaking point like he had the times before. He never felt overstimulated or sore. Instead, he just gushed more slick and happily rode wave after wave of pleasure, only wanting the feeling of Wade moving inside of Peter to never end.

Time passed, but Peter was only aware of it in strange ways. Like when he noticed that the noises from the TV had stopped or that items from the nightstand had fallen to the floor. Wade flipped their positions occasionally, and Peter marked time with that as well. As long as Wade was in him, or touching him, then Peter was unaware of the world. The seconds in which Wade stopped those things to move around felt excruciatingly long to Peter, however.

Peter became more aware of the world when Wade finally stopped moving. He was still inside of Peter, still rock hard with a confused knot that didn’t know if it should swell or deflate pressed against the outer rim of Peter’s entrance. However, Wade had stopped moving, choosing instead to just wrap around Peter and nuzzle close, Peter’s back to Wade’s stomach.

Wade bit at Peter’s neck. Not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to tease at the thought of marking. Peter’s eyelids fluttered at the sensation, his body undulating, and purr pulling up in his chest. Wade groaned at the response.

“You tempt me too much…”

Peter was supposed to tempt, wasn’t he? He was supposed to beg to be marked and kept so they could do this _again_ and _again_. That sounded like heaven. Peter wanted that. More pressingly, he wanted to keep going. But Wade was still. Why was Wade still?

“More,” Peter complained.

“Hah… You’re gonna have to give me a minute. I’m doing all the work, ya know?”

Was Wade saying that he was tired? Was that really what was happening? That he couldn’t keep up with Peter? That was unacceptable. If Wade wouldn’t give what Peter needed, then Peter would just have to take it.

With that thought in mind, Peter had them rearranged in an instant — Wade on his back as Peter straddled scarred hips. Wade was staring at Peter with wide eyes full of lust. They both groaned at Peter sank down onto Wade’s reddened cock.

“You know, you’re supposed to see a doctor for an erection lasting more than four hours,” Wade wheezed.

“I want _more_ ,” Peter said, his voice still dazed from the syrupy feeling of his heat.

“I’m starting to think you’re a little pent up.”

Peter wrapped his hand around Wade’s throat, bracing his weight against it. The pressure wasn’t enough to stop Wade from breathing, but it was enough to make in impact. Wade’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath. Peter felt Wade’s cock twitch inside of him.

“I chose you because you could keep up,” Peter stated, his eyes heavy as they roamed over Wade’s prone body. “Strong, capable, relentless. You give me what I want, or I _take_ it.”

Wade moaned, and his hands moved to grip Peter’s thighs. “You chose me?”

“Yes. _My_ alpha.”

Something flashed in Wade’s eyes. Something vulnerable and hopeful. Whatever emotions Wade was feeling, he pushed them back down, focused only on the present. His hands ran along the skin of Peter’s thighs. “Then take what you want.”

Peter lifted himself up and then back down to finish with a grind of hips that teased at Wade’s knot. The move pulled a growl from Wade’s throat and that pleased Peter to no end, so he did it again. And _again_.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Wade moaned.

“You can’t die,” Peter huffed. He’d made a good choice in alpha. A safe choice, in all respects.

Peter’s body wasn’t amused at the slow pace, so he gave in to the urge to go faster. He had to brace more of his weight on his hand, but Wade didn’t seem to mind the pressure on his throat. In fact, he seemed to rather enjoy it. Peter smiled to himself, happy that his alpha was so accommodating and easy to please. They made a good pair.

Wade made all kinds of noises at the sight of Peter riding him. It felt so nice, knowing that he was being looked upon in such a way. The words Wade praised Peter with matched the faces Wade made. He was truthful and enamoured. It pleased something deep inside of Peter that rarely saw the light of day.

Usually, Peter kept such thoughts and feelings locked away, deep down and hidden. It was painful and stifling and left him filled with anxiety. At the moment, he couldn’t remember why he did such things. It all seemed so petty and unimportant. Peter liked how he felt _now_ , with the world narrowed down to just him and Wade, with their words and actions holding no need for complexity.

Peter felt happy, and he wanted to stay that way, drowning in the pleasure of their union for as long as possible.

Closing his eyes, Peter tipped his head back and let himself be overwhelmed by the feeling of Wade filling and stretching him. His free hand found its way to his cock. It demanded attention, so Peter gave it, content to simply give in to his body’s urges. For a time, he just let himself drift in the feeling of pleasure that was being provided to him in so many different ways.

“Wade…”

“Ffffuh… Baby Boy, you look so amazing right now.”

A smiled pulled at Peter’s lips and he allowed it to spread across his face with ease. “You make me this way.”

Wade groaned half in pleasure and half in pain. “Heat-you is the fucking best.”

“Just me…” Peter mumbled to himself. “Just you. Nothing more…”

“I could get used to that.”

Peter hummed a pleased agreement before he curled forward, braced his legs, and started up a hard rhythm. He clenched the muscles in his ass to create more pressure and friction. He increased the speed of the hand on his own cock. He wanted them both to cum, hard and fast enough to obliterate words and sent them back into mindless, languid humping.

Wade’s fingers gripped Peter’s skin with more strength and his hips jerked up to meet Peter’s movements. They were both panting, sweating, and desperate for each other. The feeling of another orgasm built hard and fast. Peter curled into it, letting it rip through him with mind numbing force.

The knot that was teasing Peter began to fill and harden. Peter pressed down on it, letting it slip inside of him. They both made noises at that, enjoying the feeling of Wade’s knot locking them together while Wade filled Peter with seed. It was a deeply satisfying feeling.

A hand curled into Peter’s hair and pulled him down until their lips met. They devoured each other, drowned in one other, lost all concept of time or space. All that mattered was them, that moment, their bodies. It was bliss.

“ _My_ omega,” Wade whispered it so soft it sounded as if it had fallen from his lips unbidden.

 _Again,_ Peter’s lips said as they moved along Wade’s, trying to coax out more heavenly words.

“Your alpha,” Wade murmured, as if that was easier to admit. His hands slid along Peter’s skin, worshiping, claiming, seeking permission.

Peter slid his lips along Wade’s jaw, down the scarred neck, and over to the solid foundation of muscle. He wrapped his mouth around Wade’s scent gland. He pressed his teeth down, biting with force, not relenting until he tasted blood. Wade trembled under Peter, a wave of conflicting emotions filling the air and filling Peter as well.

 _Mine._ Peter purred against Wade’s skin, his tongue licking at the wound even as it quickly healed over. Wade pulled Peter back in for a kiss, licking the blood from Peter’s lips. Wade claimed Peter’s mouth, his body, his mind, and his omega, but much to Peter’s disappointment, Wade refused to claim Peter’s skin with a bite in return.

 

~*~

 

When Peter woke, he instantly regretted his state of consciousness. Everything hurt. It felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His muscles ached, there were healing bruises just _everywhere_ , his jaw was sore, his cock felt like it had lost a layer of skin, and his ass was on fire. To top it all off, he was _starving_ and his throat was parched.

Cracking open one eye, Peter squinted into the diffused light of the room. Wade was beside Peter, still holding them close together in a pile of arms, legs, and various dried fluids. Peter wrinkled his nose at that. It made him aware of how dirty his skin felt, which was just another added discomfort.

When Peter shifted to try and find a more comfortable position for his sore body, something rolled down the bed and plunked on top of his head. He looked up, already grumbling, but was surprised to find that the object in question was a bottle of water. Above it, still maintaining their positions, was a pile protein bars. Peter didn’t remember when Wade had done that. In fact, Peter didn’t really recall when they’d finally passed out.

As Peter carefully pulled the items down to him and started devouring them, he contemplated what he _did_ remember. Surprisingly, most of it. Sure, some of it was just a blur of non-stop sex, but anything important was fresh in his mind.

Like how Peter had repeatedly tried to bond mark Wade because the man kept healing the bites. Wade hadn’t once stopped Peter from doing it. However, despite Peter trying multiple different approaches, Wade never returned the favor. Peter rubbed at the smooth skin of his neck.

Not that the mark would have taken. Though his healing ability was slower than Wade’s, it would still eradicate a bite mark before it scarred unless they wanted to take out a chunk of skin, which Peter knew Wade would refuse to do. Honestly, just thinking about bond marking should have sent Peter into a panic like it normally did, but…

But he remembered the look on Wade’s face every time Peter left another bite. Wade was so desperate to be claimed and wanted, but refused to push something like that on Peter without consent prior to their mating session. The sex crazed omega side of Peter had trusted Wade implicitly, and it was a trust well founded in and out of heat.

Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about all of that. Whatever had been building between them had come out in very clear cut ways during Peter’s heat. Of all the things he had expected to happen, enforced honesty with himself wasn’t it. Still, life was far too complicated for Peter to be able to come to a conclusion on what to do with it all.

If Wade woke up to Peter saying he didn’t remember anything, Wade would roll with it, Peter knew that. If he ignored the conversation, Wade wouldn’t pry. It wasn’t ideal, and Peter didn’t want to do that to Wade, but Peter wasn’t ready to face how much he still cherished the moment when he claimed Wade as his. Or how happy it made Peter to be claimed in return.

Wasn’t being claimed a bad thing? Weren’t you supposed to dislike the feeling of being owned?

Except, it didn’t feel like ownership. It feel like a connection, something deep and solid and fulfilling. Wade would never assume to having dominion over Peter’s person. The only thing Wade ever seemed to want was to cherish Peter and give him whatever he asked for, even if he didn’t know what it was he needed yet.

Peter brushed his fingers ever so lightly along Wade’s temple. The alpha didn’t even stir, still exhausted from their very long foray in bed. It allowed Peter to study the man’s face, soft with sleep and unburdened by Peter’s responses to their interactions.

Wade wasn’t beautiful, but he also wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t perfect or flawed. He was simply a person like everyone else was. Just as complicated and multilayered as anyone they passed along the street, but also just as easily forgotten to those that didn’t know him.

Peter knew Wade, however, and Peter found that he couldn’t so easily forget. For Peter, Wade was simple, yet a constant conundrum, unable to be fully understood. It was both relieving to know that Wade was just an average person, and terrifying to be aware of how many facets the man contained.

“My alpha,” Peter mused, tasting the words in a more coherent state. Being so lost to his base desires during his heat was something that bothered Peter, but not for the reasons he’d thought it would. He had _enjoyed_ how he viewed the world during his heat, and how freeing it had been.

Yet, life wasn’t that simple. Perhaps it could be, for just a day, but then it had to end. Knowing that left Peter feeling rather melancholy.

Knowing that, deep down, Peter had already chosen Wade as a mate was scary. It left Peter feeling anxious, worried, conflicted, and… safe. Something in Peter was still content with the knowledge of it and he couldn’t find it in him to reject that.

“Maybe…” Peter said to himself. He needed time, but Wade would give him that time. When everything was over, they could revisit the conundrum. For now, all Peter really wanted was more sleep.

Curling back into Wade’s all encompassing body, Peter promised to himself that he would take a very long bath later, and let himself drift back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter did a looot of soul searching. XD
> 
> My goal was to show that heat didn't mean that an omega becomes helpless, whiny, and submissive. They just know what they want and they're not afraid to take it. It wasn't just about the physical aspect of sex, it was about the emotional side of it as well. Peter stayed in control of himself, and he only wanted the one alpha that he had chosen, but he was no longer hindered by his own inhibitions. This allowed him to actually enjoy his heat to the fullest.
> 
> But anywho, that's my take on the shmex. ;-p
> 
> Plot returns next chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this days ago but I got hit by a stomach virus. T.T I'm still not 100% recovered, but damn it, it's been days and I wanna post a chapter. Then I'll sleep some more. @.@
> 
> I've had, like, three people edit this. Any lingering mistakes you can blame on me being sick (or just me being dumb, take your pick).

Peter was making adjustments to his webshooters while watching the video feed of Harry’s office. It was late in the day and Harry and Felicia were finally wrapping things up to leave. It had been a week since Peter had started investigating Harry. A week of nothing suspicious and constant stress. Then it all changed with a single question.

“Felicia…” Harry frowned at his computer. “Is there anyone still signed in for overtime at the labs?”

His secretary diligently tapped away at her tablet. “No, sir. Is there a problem?”

There was a too long pause from Harry. “No, nothing, just wondering.”

Felicia seemed to find that just as odd as Peter did, but given her position she didn’t question it. She continued with the end of day tasks, but Harry interrupted her.

“It’s been a long week. Why don’t you head out early? I can finish things. I want to work on this report a little longer.” Harry smiled at her.

Once more, Felicia seemed thrown by the comment. “Are you sure?”

“It’s fine. I promise.”

She paused a moment longer before saying, “You’ll remember to eat?”

Harry laughed. “I’m ordering something right now. I won’t keel over before morning. Don’t worry.”

She gave a small but professional smile in return. “Of course, sir.”

“Have a good night.”

“You as well.”

The moment Felicia left, Harry turned back to his computer. He did various things, and Peter wished he could see the screen. He turned to Wade, but he was already pulling up the video surveillance of the labs. Peter all but held his breath waiting for it to connect.

“Well, shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, afraid of the answer.

“Someone cut the video feed and wiped everything from the past two hours. It’s just a feed loop.”

Peter swallowed hard and turned back around. On the video, Harry quickly gathered a few things and rushed out of the office. He left behind his briefcase and laptop, carrying only his tablet with him. So he wasn’t leaving the building…

It wasn’t hard evidence that Harry was involved with what Peter was after, but it didn’t look good. Harry dealt with criminals on a daily basis, so there could be a vast number of reasons for his actions. Still, Peter felt sick.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Wade said, his voice soft. “I could make something up and hand it over to the Dream Team. They can take it from here.”

“No.” Peter took a deep breath and stood. “No matter how this turns out, if I didn’t do everything I possibly could… I would never forgive myself.”

“Then what next?”

“Next, I need to get into Harry’s office and get to that computer.” Peter walked over to grab his suit. “Can you get me in unseen?”

Wade scoffed. “Who do you think I am?”

 

~*~

 

Safe in the knowledge that Wade had set up a loop of his own on the cameras, Peter quietly let himself into Harry’s office. All he needed to do was get to the laptop and check to see what the last functions had been. Peter never thought that he’d hope to find evidence of Harry working with crime bosses, but he was. Anything would be better than the alternative.

Peter looked the room over, checking to see if there was anything else that might capture his appearance in the office, or any kind of security trigger. Harry had to be safe, so Peter had to be careful. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Peter padded over to the desk.

The laptop sat there, quiet and unassuming, but Peter’s nerves rose sky high just upon seeing it. He reached for it like it was something out of a horror movie. Maybe he should have sent Wade instead. Was Peter really capable of facing whatever he was going to see?

But no. If anyone was going to do this, it had to be Peter.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the laptop to him and opened it, waiting as the screen blinked to life.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Peter whirled around to face none other than last person he _ever_ wanted to see again: Black Cat. She was leaning against the door frame, her body posed to draw the eye. Peter did his best to keep his eyes above her shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Peter moved into a more defensive stance, ready for any attack thrown his direction.

Black Cat smirked. “You haven’t looked me up already?”

“I have.”

“Then you know I’m a thief.”

Peter’s mind ran a mile a minute. Was she there for the computer as well? Was she working with Harry? Was she working for the crime lords that Mariah was with? Was Black Cat in Harry’s office to steal information for blackmail?

Black Cat laughed to herself as she casually strolled further into the office, keeping close to the wall. “You look so cute when you’re thinking hard.”

Peter scowled into his mask. “What are you here to steal?”

Lifting one clawed finger, she tapped something against the wall. There was a click and then a panel popped open. Peter watched in fascination as she pulled it away to reveal a safe. It must have been rarely used because Peter had yet to see it pop up on the videos he had reviewed.

“Who do you work for?” Peter asked.

“I work for myself. Always,” she purred. “Who do _you_ work for? I can practically see strings attached to you, puppet.”

Peter unconsciously rolled his shoulders. Did it look like he was being controlled or manipulated? No. She must be messing with him. That was what she did. She distracted until she could attack.

“Why do you know Mariah?”

“You mean the one with the bounty on her head?” Black Cat shrugged. “Easy money.”

Peter balled up his fists. “That’s a lie. Mariah was working with you.”

“Is that so?” Black Cat seemed amused by Peter’s accusations and it left him feeling unsteady.

Had Mariah just tased Peter as an opportunity to run? Had Peter let them get away only for Mariah to end up dead? She was completely off the grid, but it was impossible to tell if she was in hiding or if she’d been killed.

“So you’re a murderer, too?” Peter ground his teeth as he said it.

“I’m just the delivery person.”

“That makes you complicit.”

“Says the man who was _also_ kidnapping her and is now breaking into a wealthy man’s office. What’s wrong?” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “Did I kill your payday and now you’re scrambling for what you can find?”

“I’m not like you.”

“Oh? So you haven’t been taking under the table jobs from rich alphas?” The look on her face showed just how confident she was of that statement.

Peter’s stomach dropped to his feet. He’d been so certain about his ability to stay under the radar considering Wade so easily stole the spotlight. He hadn’t considered how much the underground community had begun to notice him. Peter had a reputation as a criminal. That was inevitable, perhaps, but it felt… terrible.

“Don’t fret,” Black Cat cooed. “We all have our vices. I won’t judge. We can take our respective items and leave, hmm?”

“You say that like I can trust you. It’s a little too coincidental that I’ve run into you twice, don’t you think?”

She laughed. “I could say the same of you.” She slid her legs further apart and dropped her center of gravity. “I should warn you, a cat isn’t so easy to catch.”

The tension in the air built, both of them waiting on the other to attack first. Peter wasn’t sure what to think. Was it all just coincidence or was Black Cat trying to trick him? Was she trying to trap Peter or was she trying to avoid getting captured for her crimes?

Most importantly, was Mariah still in danger?

“Where is Mariah?” Peter demanded.

“Why are you so concerned?” Black Cat returned.

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped when his Spidey sense went off. He focused on Black Cat, waiting to dodge the attack, but she wasn’t moving. It occurred to Peter too late that the warning wasn’t in regards to her.

The temperature in the room spiked abruptly, along with too bright light and a boom with enough force to knock them both off their feet. Peter’s heightened senses couldn’t handle how loud or bright the blast had been. He curled in on himself, clutching his head and shouting, but he couldn’t hear himself. Tears ran from his eyes as his vision tried to recover.

The smell of smoke filled his nose, but he couldn’t determine where it was coming from. His sense of orientation was completely compromised. If he hadn’t already been laying on the floor, he wouldn’t have been able to tell which way was up. All he could focus on was trying to convince his hands to not rip his mask off. That it wouldn’t help how deaf and blind he was.

Not to mention, it _hurt_. His ears throbbed with pain and it felt like needles were being slammed into his eyes. A headache built hard and fast in his skull. The world felt like it was spinning, and his stomach flipped in response. He swallowed back bile. The last thing he needed was to puke inside his mask.

 _Fuck._ What now? The only explanation for what was happening was a flash grenade. Black Cat hadn’t had one — Peter had been focused on her when the grenade went off. It also would have benefited her in any way since she would have also been caught in the blast.

So it was someone else. Harry? Security detail? Shit. Were they in the room? Peter tried to focus on his spidey sense to see if there were any incoming attacks. He didn’t particularly feel anything. Was the flash grenade rigged? Had Black Cat triggered it when she opened the secret panel to the safe? Or was it rigged for anyone who entered the office?

 _Shit, shit, shit._ Peter gritted his teeth and shouted in wordless frustration into the ear ringing silence around him. How long before he could stand up? Or hear? Or see? He was completely helpless and vulnerable.

It terrified him.

Peter pulled at the neck of his suit. It felt like he was suffocating. He wanted to pull the mask off so desperately, but he knew that he couldn’t. Anyone could be in the room. His identity would be discovered if he didn’t keep it together. Everyone that worked closely with Harry knew who Peter was.

_Stay calm, damn it. Just breathe. In and out. In. Out. In. Out._

Time crawled by and Peter shook with useless adrenaline. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He could do neither. All he was capable of was just laying there and hoping he would recover faster.

At long last, he was able to open his eyes to something other than bright white nothingness. It looked like there was a dark filter on everything from the heavy afterimage of the flash, but at least he could see some of what was around him. The most prominent image was the light being cast from the papers in the shredding bin — they were on fire.

After some more rapid blinking, Peter was able to make out the general area of the room. He pulled himself up onto his hands and knees before reaching for the desk. Clinging to the sturdy frame for dear life, he managed to haul himself up into a mostly upright position.

Peter fumbled across the surface of the desk, but he never came in contact with the laptop. He stumbled around the side, leaning heavily against the wood to keep his balance. Maybe the blast had knocked it into the floor? But no. There was nothing there. It was gone.

He cursed, but it sounded like nothing more than a muffled echo inside his head. So for good measure he cursed louder and more eloquently.

Squinting around himself Peter looked for Black Cat, but she was missing. He could just barely see claw marks along the wall from where she must have used it to find her way out. Had she taken the computer? And if so, why?

Either way, Peter needed to get out sooner rather than later. He attempted to walk forward but stumbled. He went sprawling back to the floor with more creative cursing. Peter sucked in air, smelling more smoke and—

Boots came to a stop in front of Peter’s face and strong arms wrapped around his torso. The smell of alpha, leather, and gun oil surrounded Peter and he focused on it, reveling in the only sense he still had that wasn’t completely fucked over. Wade pulled Peter’s arm around his shoulders and took a solid hold of Peter’s waist.

With Wade’s help, they managed to make it out of the building and away without further incident. By the time they finally stopped in a dark alley to take a breather, Peter was mostly recovered. A low buzz still hung around in his ears, but at least he could see again. He leaned against the bricks of a building and tried to keep himself together.

It didn’t last long.

“Fuck!” Peter whirled around and threw a punch at the wall. Brick and plaster crumbled around his fist. Peter sucked in air as he tried to force himself to calm back down.

Wade stood by silently, waiting for Peter to let off steam. It took a while for Peter to get control over the need to lash out at his surroundings. He let his head drop forward to rest against the dirty wall in front of him.

“How did you know to come get me?” Peter asked, his voice sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

“The system pinged a motion sensor alarm that was independent of the mainframe. It was a remote signal. It didn’t alert security or send a message to the police, so I was worried about what it _would_ trigger.”

A flash bomb was what it triggered. Peter cursed again for good measure.

“On the upside, the motion sensor was attached to a pen camera.” Wade pulled said camera from his glove. “We can look it over and see what it caught.”

That was at least one good thing. “Is the hit still out for Mariah Crawford?”

“So far as I know.”

“We need to check that as soon as possible.” Peter needed to know that she was alive. He really, really couldn’t handle it if she wasn’t.

Whatever was in Peter’s voice caused Wade not to argue for once. “It was some shit luck, Baby Boy. It’s not your fault things went sideways.”

Peter took a deep breath and pushed away from the wall. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

 

~*~

 

They watched the pen cam video together. Wade was able to hear the conversation between Peter and Black Cat, along with the oddly similar opinions the two had of each other. Hearing that back made even less sense to Peter than it had the first time.

The camera whited out and the sound crackled as the flash grenade overpowered the recording capabilities. The camera took a few seconds to adjust, and then Peter was watching himself writhe on the floor along with Black Cat. They had both been shut down by that grenade.

Then someone walked through the door and Peter stopped breathing. Harry was carrying a gun like he knew how to use it as he side stepped inside with fluid motions. He appraised the room in silence, walking closer to Peter and Black Cat, keeping the gun at the ready. However, he froze halfway to them and stared at them both for a long few moments while Black Cat dug her nails into the floor and Peter clawed at the edges of his mask.

At last Harry darted forward, closed the laptop with a snap, and then left with it. Black Cat clawed her way up the wall into a mostly upright position. She used that method to drag herself out the door while Peter tried to pull himself to his knees. There was nothing much else to see after that besides Peter’s useless flailing for the missing computer and Wade’s rescue.

What was even more confusing was that even after Harry had left, the police hadn’t been called. Perhaps Harry thought it was related to his illegal dealings and didn’t want the police involved. But Harry’s private security hadn’t been informed either. They discovered the office disaster on their own when the trash fire set off the sprinklers. Harry had been very brief in his response to the report sent to him

So why? Why had Harry left both of them behind? Why had he just grabbed what Peter wanted and left? Harry had the perfect opportunity to shoot them both, even if just to incapacitate them and claim it was self defense. There was no reason to leave them so that they could escape and return another day.

Harry’s actions made no sense. Nothing made any sense.

“Is there something I’m not seeing?” Peter asked, though to no one in particular.

“There has to be a puzzle piece we’re missing,” Wade agreed.

Peter scrubbed at his face before standing up and pacing the limited area of Wade’s apartment. “What about Mariah?”

“The hit is still active. I pinged it just in case, but there’s been no confirmation of completion. So at the very least, nobody has turned her over to Norman.”

“Do you think Black Cat would really turn her over?”

“Her track record would say no, but morals change a lot in the face of money.”

“I need to know about the deal she made,” Peter decided. “Whether she is or isn’t a puzzle piece will be easier to determine if we have that information.”

“To be honest, that might require us sneaking into their headquarters and looking at her physical file. There just isn’t anyone who knows about it or any digital copy of the agreement.”

Peter turned to make eye contact with Wade. “You ready to break into a place like that?”

Wade grinned. “You kidding me? It sounds like a blast. When do we leave?”

“No time like the present.”

 

~*~

 

Muscling one’s way into a criminal headquarters was a lot easier than it sounded when one was accompanied by Deadpool and his arsenal of weapons. In fact, Deadpool had simply walked in with a sash made of grenades and let everyone know that none of the pins needed to be pulled if everyone would just leave the building. Quite a few people took that option and booked it.

The ones that stayed were easily subdued with Peter’s webbing. Only a few people needed to get shot, and nobody needed to die. Wade made a valiant effort to not look disappointed about the lack of destruction. Peter found it a good thing on multiple levels. One, he didn’t want to kill anyone. Two, the less damage, the less of a grudge they’d hold against him for breaking in.

They had a general layout of the building, and Peter made his way to the office that contained the filing cabinets and banker boxes full of folders. It seemed like the best place to start looking for what he needed.

The door was locked and reinforced. Peter kicked it in without issue, leaving a large dent in the middle of it as it clung to the doorframe at an awkward angle. Someone was in the room, but spidey sense allowed Peter to dodge the bullet without problem. He webbed the shooter to the wall a moment later.

“Watch the door,” Peter ordered.

“On it!” Wade happily agreed. He seemed to get a rush out of situations like the one he was in. There was a manic energy hanging around him that he was barely containing. Perhaps months ago, seeing that would have bothered Peter. It didn’t so much anymore.

Peter walked over to the filing cabinets first, hoping there would be some kind of organization to them. He flicked through the files, getting an idea of how they were organized and then moved to the next drawer.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in my building?!”

Peter glanced up at the man stuck to the wall. It belatedly occurred to Peter that the person was the one in charge. It made more sense now why the people in the hallway were reluctant to run when Wade and Peter approached them.

“I’m looking for information, not a fight.” Peter continued his search.

“And this is how you go about it?” the Don asked.

“You would just hand over what you know?”

“We could have made a deal,” the Don growled through his teeth.

“I’m not interested in deals.”

“Oh, I bet. You’ve got a reputation for taking whatever you want.”

Peter glanced up at the man for only a moment before going back to his search. That was the second time someone had mentioned his reputation. Was he really that well known? And what exactly were people saying about him?

“I’m just trying to keep someone alive.” Peter moved to the next cabinet and continued his search. Mariah had made her deal so long ago that her folder was likely in one of the boxes, but those would take more time to search through. Though her file might have been pulled since she was assigned to Osborn so recently.

“That’s butting into our business.”

“She’s _your_ person, and you managed to put a bounty on her head.”

“You’re talkin’ about Mariah.”

Peter paused and looked over at the Don. “Do you know where she is?”

“Why? So you can turn her over for a payday?” The Don had that aura of confident authority about him, which looked a little funny considering he was stuck to the wall and immobile.

“I told you, I’m trying to keep her alive.”

“Sure. We’re all honest and upstanding citizens here with no need to lie.”

Peter’s impatience flared, but he managed to contain himself. There was no point in trying to get any information out of the man. Solid evidence would be more truthful and be a bigger benefit to what Peter needed to know about Mariah.

“You think I have a clean spreadsheet of where all my associates are?” the Don mocked.

“Why is Mariah working for you?” The question popped out of his mouth before he could stop it. He knew it was pointless to ask, but irritation was getting the best of him. It’d be nice if at least _one_ thing could go his way. He slammed the drawer shut a little too hard and moved to the next cabinet.

“Why does anyone work for me? You need a favor, you make a deal.”

“And I’m sure none of those favors started with you threatening them first.”

“Like you got any room to talk.”

Peter frowned. He wasn’t like them. “Knowing why Mariah is working for you wouldn’t help me in tracking her down if all I wanted was the bounty.”

“Doesn’t help you _keep her alive_ either.”

Peter gripped the handle of the next drawer hard enough that the metal creaked and bent. “It’s not just her life I’m trying to save.”

“You know what doesn’t work? Someone talking like a hero while acting like a villain. My helpful suggestion to you is that you should pick one.”

Peter’s fingers froze in mid-movement. That hit a lot closer to home than he cared for. Peter didn’t consider himself a villain, but he also didn’t consider himself a hero. What exactly did that make him? He fought against his need to be a hero all the time, and he enjoyed the mercenary work he had chosen to do with Wade.

Yet… There he was, still trying to save lives, still trying to make a difference. But he was breaking all the rules to do it.

What did that make him?

“Listen, I don’t appreciate being pulled into the middle of your little alpha dominance fest. How about you stop trying to drag others into it, too?”

Peter looked over at the Don for a long moment. “Is that what you think this is?”

“That’s what it always is with you alphas.”

The Don was a beta. Peter could smell it on him. That wasn’t unusual. When one couldn’t get ahead in life because all promotions went to an alpha, sometimes climbing the ranks in a more illegal manner seemed like a good option. In the underground gender didn’t make as much of a difference, as long as you had the right kind of reputation. Of course, this ended up with betas carrying the stigma of supposedly being more prone to criminal acts.

Yet another way alphas forced people into bad situations and then blamed them for it.

Pulling off his glove, Peter stalked over to the Don and gripped the man’s hair hard, letting his wrist sit close to the beta’s nose. The Don glared at Peter, keeping up his air of righteous indignation. He may have been stuck to a wall, but he refused to give up his fight. Peter could respect that.

“What do I smell like to you?” Peter asked.

It took a moment, but finally the Don’s eyes widened a little. He tried to subdue his reaction to the knowledge that Peter was an omega in order to keep what control he could over the situation. “You smell like you’ve got a lot of issues.”

“Would it bother you if omegas started dying en masse? Because it would bother me.”

The Don held eye contact, trying to determine what Peter was getting at. “How does that relate to Mariah’s bounty?”

“It relates to the Osborns. If she knows something, I need that information.”

“Look, all I needed was someone with enough medical knowledge to pass as a nurse. I wanted Norman dead. I was guaranteed she’d have the balls to do it. She didn’t. End of story. Some people just can’t kill when it comes down to it.”

“You don’t even remember why she was on retainer, do you?” Peter asked, incredulous.

“I run a big operation. You want me to remember the details of every person in it?”

Peter made a sharp sound of irritation and paced away, trembling as he tried to control his temper. He yanked his glove back on as his eyes flicked around the room and landed on the desk shoved in the corner. It was covered in a mess of paperwork. There was a stack of items in a wire basket labeled “to file” sitting on one corner. He walked over to it and looked through the folders.

Sure enough, Mariah Crawford was in there. Peter pulled it out with no small amount of relief and excitement. He opened it up to scan through the contents. The most recent documents were in reference to the paperwork they had faked with the nursing company. Someone working in HR with that company had entered Mariah into the system and then assigned her to Norman Osborn.

Flipping further back, Peter noticed that Mariah’s medical knowledge hadn’t come from nursing or medtech school. She was a research scientist and advanced in her field. Peter looked over the information in more detail but it showed no incident that would require help. No accusations of theft from colleagues or problems with her superiors.

Then why had she sought underground assistance?

Turning more pages brought up another name: Chelsea Crawford. There were pages of documentation and falsified records. The group had wiped Chelsea’s past and remade her as a decently educated beta. But that made no sense. They had her original birth certificate. She was born an omega and sister to Mariah. Even if they changed all of her legal information to beta, she would still obviously smell like an omega.

Peter stared at the copy of the ID they had made for her. She was thin and her eyes looked hollow and sad, her thin hair hanging limp to her shoulders. Mariah had given up a lot just to have on public record that her sister was a different gender. What exactly had happened?

It wasn’t the puzzle piece Peter was looking for. It was just another question in a series of them. Maybe he could track Chelsea down. Maybe he could pull the truth from her. Maybe… hopefully… it would finally lead to some answers.

Peter took pictures of everything in the file before neatly putting it all back and tossing it into the wire basket.

“We’ll be out of your hair now. Thank you for your cooperation.” Peter gave a lazy wave as he headed towards the door.

“Hey! You’re just going to leave me like this?!”

“Give it a few hours.”

Peter and Wade made their way back out of the building, the Don’s shouts of protest following them down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So flash grenades put off such a bright light that it causes a few seconds of intense heat. So hot, in fact, that it can set things on fire, like paper. It produces a sound so loud that it leaves you deaf for quite some time, but also causes disturbance in the water in the inner ear. This means you can’t orient yourself or stay upright.
> 
> Does it feel like we’re chasing suspects in circles yet? Because that’s the goal. XD
> 
> I wanted to get into Peter questioning his morals during this chapter and facing the reputation that he’s building and how that affects him. After all, can’t get involved in a life of crime as a costumed bad guy and not become known for it, yeah? Heh
> 
> It's subtle, but the reason Harry didn't do anything to Peter and Black Cat is totes hidden in the chapter. ;-p We'll get into details later.


	14. Chapter 14

Peter sat in the quiet of the small town library, staring at the pages of the high school yearbook before him. Chelsea Crawford had been a popular and active person. An honor student who participated in many different clubs, she ended up with multiple photos throughout the book. The ID photo Peter had seen in her file was barely recognizable by comparison.

In high school, Chelsea had been happy, social, and ambitious. She was voted the friendliest person in her year and every picture of her showed her to be smiling and full of life. Her senior quote stated how much she wanted to become a teacher. There was even an interview segment to go with the picture they’d taken for her Friendliest Person title.

_I know it’s a cliche for someone like me to aspire to be a teacher, but that’s exactly why I want to pursue it. I want to teach kids to follow their dreams and to never give up hope. The world is an amazing place full of adventures to be had. Everyone should have the opportunity to seek them out!_

Reading that hurt, because beside the yearbook was a newspaper, two years old, showing Chelsea’s obituary. It didn’t state the cause of death, but they had her labeled as a beta. A lot had happened between Chelsea’s graduation and her death.

Digging around in the Crawfords’ hometown resulted in a few more bits of information. Chelsea had dropped out of college in her second year, after which all activity on her social media pages ceased. Before her death, Chelsea had been admitted to a care facility. It had taken some time, but Peter managed to discover that the cause of her admittance was sexual trauma and suicidal depression.

That lead Peter to looking up information concerning the time period when Chelsea had left school and moved back home. There was one campus article about how “the charges of the assault case had been dropped.” Though there were no further details to be found, Peter could make his guesses on what happened. It wasn’t all that unusual of an occurrence for small town omegas in big city colleges.

A party, a pushy alpha, a tipsy omega that thought it was all just friendly flirting. And in the end, the alpha had walked away without repercussions.

Why Mariah thought that changing Chelsea’s gender on paper would help was still beyond Peter. However, it gave Mariah motive. Watching her sister go from the happy and hopeful person she had been to the scared and hurt person she became would have affected Mariah.

So a bitter scientist with a dead omega sister that had ties to a crime syndicate? It was a good profile. The problem was, Mariah had no contact with Harry nor access to Oscorp as a whole. Her job only allowed her access to Norman’s penthouse. Peter had been inside Mariah’s home and there had been no personal lab setup.

If Mariah was behind the gas, how had she obtained the cartridges and where had she developed the formula? If she really was working with Black Cat, was there a lab somewhere else, funded by stolen money?

Black Cat also proved that she had access to the Oscorp building. So _if_ they were working together, that could possibly give them all they needed. Access to the canisters, high grade chemicals, and the ability to support a hidden lab somewhere in the city.

Of course, Harry also fit that profile. He had killed the cameras for the labs, had his office rigged to protect his information, and had access to absolutely everything in Oscorp. In fact, his own assistant had pulled the canisters out on camera—

Peter stood up so fast that the chair under him clattered to the floor. An old man sitting in the corner turned to glare at and shush Peter.

 _Felicia!_ What did they know about her? They’d made up a profile on her, sure, and she had a clean record. But Peter had been tying everything she did to Harry. What if she wasn’t following Harry’s orders? What if Harry was suspicious of her and that was the cause of their discussion about the labs?

Everything that Harry could access, Felicia could too. She was known for having the authority to enter any room in the building unquestioned and issue directions. She made the work orders and the schedules. She could have given tasks out little at a time and created what she wanted without any lab personnel knowing what they were contributing to.

And most importantly, _Felicia had put the canisters in her purse._

Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn’t he looked into that long ago? Why was it just now slapping him in the face? She hid so well behind Peter’s anxiety over Harry. His obsession with Mariah had all been to try and find a reason for Harry to not be behind it.

Felicia was doing everything under their noses and getting away with it.

Scrambling to close down and put away everything, Peter was running out of the library less than a minute later. He pulled out his phone and called Wade.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Get me everything you can find on Felicia Hardy.”

 

~*~

 

In her junior year of college, Felicia Hardy had been raped by an alpha classmate. Unlike Chelsea, Felicia had refused to drop the charges or allow the perpetrator to go unpunished. She pursued the case through the courts and pulled backing from every victims’ advocacy group she could.

At the end of her crusade, she had been branded as someone trying to ruin an alpha’s name over a “single night’s mistake.” The alpha spent a laughably small amount of time in jail, and only served a year of probation. Later, his record had been expunged.

Felicia hadn’t stopped there. Attempts on the alpha’s life were recorded, including break-ins, attempted poisoning, and a car bomb. Though Felicia was a key witness, they were unable to link any of the crimes to her. In a strange twist of fate, the alpha died not long after from his own drunk driving incident.

After falling off the grid for some time, Felicia popped back up when she applied to be a personal assistant to Harry Osborn. Her resume had been impressive, but none of that work history could be 100% confirmed. Regardless, Felicia had excelled at her job so her past was never called into question.

There were a lot of curious things to be found in her background check as well. It was spotless, but also missing things that should have been there. Following that thread had lead to some interesting information: Felicia’s father was a very accomplished thief. When looking up _his_ background, it stated that he was a widower with only one omega daughter in his immediate family.

Considering gender was caused by a lobe that developed during fetal growth and was woven into the basic chemical makeup of the body, changing genders should have been impossible. Yet, Peter had discovered two people in less than a week who had successfully hidden the gender they were born with.

The questions was, how? And were the two cases related?

So Peter staked out Felicia’s apartment to try and find out as much as he could about her. What he discovered was that her lights were on a timer and her TV was left on random channels for noise. Felicia was somehow sneaking out of the apartment without notice.

Thanks to Wade’s advice on how to successfully stalk a person’s movements (“I haven’t done it to you, Petey, I swear!”), it only took a few days for Peter to determine how she was leaving the apartment building. That was the day he discovered that Felicia Hardy and Black Cat were the same person.

Whether or not that caused things to make more sense or less sense was still up for debate. Felicia and Chelsea were unique cases with a surprising amount of similarities between them. Similarities that connected them both to Mariah. If there was anyone who would be able to mask an omega’s smell, it would be Mariah with her background in biochemical research.

Of course, that could lead to Mariah only helping Felicia pass herself off as a beta and nothing more. For now, all evidence was pointing to Black Cat being behind the whole incident. As an omega with a grudge against alphas and an unrelenting need to fight back in any way possible, she had the motive and means to pull it off.

Waiting patiently on an adjacent rooftop, Peter was in position to follow Black Cat to see where she went. His goal was not to engage. Unfortunately, Black Cat left her building with a small bag slung over her shoulder, just the right size to carry one of the canisters. She leaped off the roof of her building and started a fast pace across the city, looking like she had a destination in mind.

“Shit!” Peter jumped off the building he was on and used his webs to catch up to her. If she was prepared to drop another cannister, then Peter was out of time. As much as he would have liked to gather more information, he had to intervene.

Peter swung high so he could flip and land in front of her. She slid to a stop and squared off against him as he stood. Something hard and angry flashed across her face before it smoothed out into her usual coy smile. She cocked one hip as she looked him over.

“I get the feeling that you have a bit of an obsession with me,” she purred.

“What’s in the bag?”

She patted the bulk of the bag that hung by her hip. “Just a few things all ladies need to carry.”

Peter took a single step forward. “Show me what’s in the bag, Felicia.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s illegal to stalk people, you know.”

“It’s also illegal to poison people.”

Black Cat laughed. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“I won’t let you hurt any more innocent people.”

“Is that so? You seem to have a very good idea of what it is that you _think_ I’m doing, but I promise you, I’m just your average thief. Petty crime isn’t really your concern, now is it?”

“Then you won’t mind showing me what’s in there.”

“I have no obligation to show you anything. How naughty of you.”

Peter clenched his fists. “Then I’ll take it by force.”

Black Cat’s body went still and the ever-present smile was wiped from her face. “That’s not going to work out for you.”

Since Peter always seemed to hesitate until something bad happened, he decided to attack first for a change. He lashed out, intending to get a hard enough kick to the ribs to knock the breath out of Felicia. To his surprise, she bent backwards and missed the kick completely. Throwing her body weight onto her hands, she took advantage of Peter’s second of instability after his attack and slammed her boot hard into his jaw.

Peter stumbled back, pain flashing through his face. Felicia wasted no time and started attacking with gusto. Peter’s spidey sense helped keep him ahead of most of it, but retaliating was difficult. He’d never encountered anyone as flexible and agile as Black Cat. It was like fighting water.

The only reason Peter was able to keep her from slashing him open with her claws was because of the training he’d done with Deadpool. Otherwise, she would have taken him down in the first few seconds. As it was, she was getting in enough hits to wear him down little by little. He needed to end it soon.

Catching one of her legs, he spun and dropped to one knee, attempting to sling her away from himself long enough to web her down. Perhaps it would have worked if she hadn’t managed to hook her claw into the band of one of his webshooters. His own strength yanked him forward and they toppled onto the rooftop in a tangle of limbs.

Being the contortionist she was, she wrapped her legs around his arms to keep him still before locking her own arms around his neck. She squeezed hard, intending to bruise his windpipe enough to keep him down. Peter sucked in a panicked breath as he lifted his hands up to fight her off, but the position of her legs kept him from reaching high enough.

He threw his super strength into it, forcibly moving her enough so his fingers could grip at her forearms. His face felt hot and under pressure already; she must have been cutting off blood flow. When he pulled her arms away enough to take in another breath of air, a wave of dizziness hit him from the head rush.

Realizing that his strength would eventually win the battle, she abruptly released the tension in her legs. That left Peter’s arm to jerk up with force, punching himself in the face. Between a super strength punch and her trying to sleeper hold him, Peter was temporarily stunned and left seeing stars.

The weight wrapped around him was gone in an instant and Peter was left gasping and coughing. By the time he rolled himself over and pushed up onto his knees, Black Cat was nowhere to be seen. He scrubbed at his watering eyes with the fabric of his mask.

“Damn it!” His voice was hoarse and his throat nowhere near enough recovered for him to be yelling. His exclamation ended in a coughing fit.

“Looks like we should work on your hand-to-hand combat,” Wade’s voice crackled in Peter’s ear from the comm unit.

Peter ignored that. “You got eyes on her?” he rasped.

“Yep! Following her now. We’re headed east. Catch up.”

Taking a deep breath, Peter staggered to his feet. “I’m coming.”

Knowing that the likelihood of being followed was high, Felicia backtracked and took strange routes as she worked to put distance between herself and Peter. Even without knowing that Deadpool was following her, she managed to slip out of Wade’s sight multiple times. Thankfully, they always found her again.

When she finally stopped, Peter had a clear view as she took the canister out of the bag. It was the exact prototype that had been found at the last scene. Strapped to the canister was a small device that was likely how it would be destroyed afterwards. Black Cat judged the area, determining the best place to drop the gas.

As he swung into view Peter shot the thing out of her hands, wrapping it up tight in multiple layers of webbing. She wasted no time in trying to go after it, but Wade appeared and aimed a gun at her. She stopped, unsure of her next move.

“I’ve got no qualms about shooting you,” Wade happily informed her.

Felicia gritted her teeth. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly what we’re doing,” Peter said as he stepped forward to stand beside Wade. “We’re saving lives. You think I don’t know what that gas does?”

“You’re just concerned about protecting alphas.” Gone was the lilting and sultry tone of Felicia’s voice. It had been replaced with something hard, bitter, and angry. “Alphas are all anyone is concerned about. It doesn’t matter the trials that anyone else goes through as long as they’re being worshiped how they choose.”

“And you think all this is going to fix that?” Peter asked. “You’re hurting innocent people. Innocent _omegas_.”

“No. Not innocent. _Compliant._ They are all compliant in their own oppression. If they won’t do something to help themselves, or others, or the omegas of the future, then I will _make_ them do it!”

“By forcing people to kill?”

“It isn’t a guarantee that anyone will die.” She acted like they were blowing things out of proportion and couldn’t see the good that she was trying to do.

“It’s a high possibility! You think there are no repercussions for that?” Peter knew exactly what it felt like to suddenly become aware of himself after having done something irreversible.

“Isn’t that the point? They had no control over their actions. If they are prosecuted, that should allow them their freedom. If not, how can it justify every other perpetrator that has walked free? How many alphas in rut have been pardoned for their actions?”

“These are _people_ , Felicia! Individuals who will blame _themselves_ for acts they never wanted to commit!”

“A necessary evil for a greater good.” She pulled her chin up, confident in the path she’d chosen, convinced that it was the best plan.

Peter saw himself in her, justifying morally questionable actions because the rest of the world was just as bad. He had gained a reputation for that. Had become the very person he’d tried years ago to put behind bars. Perhaps before he had experienced what it felt like to be affected by the gas, and before he’d been slapped in the face with his new reputation, he would have agreed with her.

“The whole world will be watching. Omegas will never be seen as guaranteed prey ever again.” The fire in her eyes was visible. It was obvious how personal her mission was to her.

“Are you sure about that?” Deadpool asked, his voice calm. “Omegas being the only ones affected can be twisted so that it was their ‘weak biology’ that made them susceptible.”

“The omegas will know that they _can_ fight!” Felicia argued, her body trembling with emotion. “That they _are_ capable of pushing back and winning!”

“No,” Peter argued. “They will only know that there is yet another thing out there that can control them and leave them in fear.” It bothered him deeply. He wanted omegas to fight back, he wanted change, but he couldn’t stand remembering all those people in the hospital — screaming, fighting, covered in blood.

Peter remembered seeing his arms soaked in red and Wade wheezing out his last breath. The thought of it made him sick. He hadn’t been in control and that haunted him. He wanted change, but not like that. Never like that.

“You are taking away their free will. You are taking away their choices,” Peter said. “Is that not just as bad as anything an alpha has done?”

Felicia flinched as if she’s been slapped. It hit close to home and Peter meant for it to. He dug into that wound deeper, relentless in his need to make her understand. “That gas overrides what an omega actually wants. It confuses everything around them. It’s a _drug_. There is no guarantee that they’ll go after the target you intend.”

Peter could see it, some teenage girl waking up to find herself surrounded by violence, told that she had brutally attacked someone. The reality of the drug wasn’t what it looked like on paper. Felicia had to understand that.

“What if they attack another omega?” Peter asked.

“They won’t.” Felicia took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders a little further back. “There needed to be a catalyst, something that made every omega in the area suspicious of every alpha they saw. I should thank you for that.” She looked over at Deadpool. “Your little display made the distrust between alphas and omegas the first thought on everyone’s minds.”

Peter was stunned. She was talking about the serial killer. The discussion was still a top story and everyone had an opinion on it, no matter what side they were on. It caused everyone in New York City to take a moment to assess the people around them.

But most of all, it had made sure that omegas saw alphas as a threat to their safety. The maternal aggression had an outlet already picked out before the gas was even introduced to exacerbate it.

Black Cat smirked as she watched them realize the significance of their actions. “How can you point fingers at me while knowing what you did? How are you any different?”

It was true. They had sought justice on their own and let the pieces fall where they may. There was no way to foresee such an outcome. How could they possibly assume that their attempts to save omegas from a serial killer would end up with omegas being affected by a rage inducing gas?

Of course, that was the point. Just because they couldn’t predict the outcome didn’t mean they shouldn’t have assumed that their actions would have no consequences. The media was in an uproar, people were at each other’s throats, the case was going in all different directions, and that had been the exact setup Felicia needed.

“No,” Felicia said. “You’re _worse_ than me. You tried to tell the world that only another alpha could protect them from danger instead of learning to fight for themselves.”

Peter shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. Felicia was doing exactly what the Avengers were. She was looking at the big picture without regard to the individuals. Even though Peter had focused only on single people worthy of punishment, it had still led to unexpected consequences.

It had still led to people getting hurt.

“There will always be consequences to our actions, big or small. We can’t assume that it’s okay to let someone fall through the cracks. We can’t say that collateral damage won’t produce yet another victim with a grudge against the world. This… This will only create more enemies.”

“You have no right to lecture me on moral obligation!”

“You’re right, I don’t. I’m not perfect, and I’m not pretending to be. All I can do is learn from my past mistakes. Sometimes, I can’t see them myself. So I’m here to tell you that you’re not seeing everything.”

“I’m the _only_ person seeing everything!” Felicia aggressively pointed at the ball of webbing that contained the canister. “That is strength! That is teaching omegas to protect themselves!”

“No!” Peter’s breathing picked up as he remembered what it had felt like. “That is being a slave to chemicals! The only thing that contains is fear and pain!”

“Fear and pain comes from others!” Felicia’s eyes filled, but she blinked it away. “This is the road to making sure no omega feels powerless as they pray for help to come. This will be the path to creating their own safety!”

“It doesn’t work like that! The epinephrine spike alone—”

“This isn’t about the science of the moment, it’s about the results!”

“The results are not what you think they will be!”

“You can’t understand because you’re a—”

“A what?! An alpha? A beta?” Peter ripped off his mask, his chest heaving as he sucked in air to try to calm himself back down. Felicia fell quiet as recognition hit her.

He and Felicia shared a secret, and that secret required a lot more trust than righteous words and hidden identities could handle if they were ever going to understand one another. They were both omegas trying to claw their way out of the pit life had left them in. They were both bitter, angry, and ready to break all the rules to change their worlds. They were both trying to take care of others that were in the same bad situation.

They were each straddling the line between hero and villain, desperately trying not to lose their balance.

Wade tensed beside Peter, unsure of his plan of action as he knew how protective Peter normally was over his identity. Peter didn’t allow himself time to think about it and kept talking. “I know what that stuff does because I’ve been affected by it. It’s _still_ affecting me. You don’t have enough data to know the long term effects on multiple different types of people.”

Felicia shook her head, still stunned at the idea of Peter being the one in the suit. “You have to know why I’m—”

“I do! I do know. I knew the minute I found out that it only affected omegas. I know _why_ you’re doing this.” Peter put all of his emotions about it onto his face, willing Felicia to understand. “There have to be other ways. This… It feels like I was violated. Do you have any idea how many people I could have killed if Deadpool hadn’t stopped me?”

Felicia looked stricken. It was obvious that in her focused efforts to find a way to fix the world, she had hidden away from the moral dilemma of it and refused to consider the bigger ramifications of what might happen any omega supers were affected. Her desire to change the world was all hinged on her unfulfilled need for revenge.

It wasn’t like Peter didn’t understand that. He did. A little too well. The only thing that hadn’t led him down Felicia’s path was—

Was Uncle Ben.

“With great power comes great responsibility.” Peter spoke the words slowly, as if they were rusty and out of use. If he was being honest with himself, they were. He had shoved them to the dark corners of his mind the day he burned his suit.

For a long time he had thought that Uncle Ben had been wrong, that he was just an idealistic beta that didn’t understand how the world worked. If Peter had learned anything these past few months, it was that he still desperately needed Uncle Ben’s guidance. Everything was all messed up because Peter had been angry about how little power he had.

But it wasn’t true. Everyone had the power to change things, for better or worse, and Peter more so than others. Felicia as well. They were omegas capable of far more than most of their peers. They had to use that power to help, but most of all, they needed to remember that every single action had a consequence.

“I forgot to follow those words and everything went to hell. I’m a person now that I never wanted to be. If you keep on this path, you will be, too. We _do_ have the power to change things, we’ve proven that, but we didn’t take responsibility for it.”

“This is not an impulse decision. We have researched and planned for years.”

“And yet you have no idea how out of control it has already become,” Peter said. “The Avengers are looking for the culprit. If SHIELD becomes involved, there will be no way out of this for you. You could end up in prison. You can’t do anything about the world from behind bars.”

Felicia seemed shocked that the Avengers were looking into the case. She likely didn’t think it would be on their radar, and perhaps it normally wouldn’t have been if Peter and Wade hadn’t been involved. Of course, that was the point. There was no way to determine how the dice would fall.

“We can still fix this,” Peter pleaded. “I can advocate for you. We can explain why this happened in the first place.”

“Why would you want to do anything for me?” Felicia asked, and as disbelieving as her voice sounded, it seemed she genuinely wanted to know if Peter meant it.

“Because I _do_ understand your reason. With the help of the Avengers, we could finally do something significant. They’re up so high that they just don’t get what the world is really like, but we can change that. We could make a difference using their resources without anyone getting hurt.”

Felicia shook her head, a wavery smile tugging at her lips. “You act like that would work at all. Why would they even listen to us?”

“Because we’re not afraid to _make_ them listen.”

She choked on a laugh before tilting her head back to look at the sky, taking in a deep breath of the cacophony of smells that made up NYC. “You almost make me want to believe you.”

“He’s good at that,” Deadpool quietly agreed, breaking his silence at last. “He makes you actually believe in the whole hero thing.”

Peter’s chest clenched. Knowing that Wade still saw Peter as a hero, that his recent actions had done nothing to undo that belief, meant a lot more than he thought it would. Hearing others refer to him as a villain had bothered him far more than he cared to admit.

“Sometimes our actions aren’t what we believed them to be at the time,” Peter said, referring to his own experiences. “That doesn’t mean we can’t change and adjust as we learn. There’s still time to fix this.”

And of course, Murphy’s Law had to assert itself at that moment. Peter’s phone vibrated and both Peter and Wade glanced at each other in concern. The only call allowed to go through was Tony. He pulled it out to verify.

 _Shit._ He needed more time. He flicked his eyes up at Felicia and pressed his finger to his lips before answering. “Tony?”

“I’m just calling to let you know we have a lead and there’s always a possibility of things not going how we planned. Gas might be released at the following locations, so stay clear.” Peter paled as Tony named off the radius surrounding Oscorp and Harry’s apartment. “Keep your gas mask on hand.”

“Right…” Peter responded with numb lips.

Tony, being preoccupied, didn’t notice and simply ended the call. Peter’s breathing became harsh and fast as his mind spiraled out of control. Even if Peter could somehow prove Harry’s innocence, his criminal connections would come to light, if they hadn’t already. Harry didn’t deserve any of this, but what was there to do? What could he do?

“Hey!” Wade’s warm hand dropped on Peter’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Peter turned panicked eyes to Felicia. “They’re going after Harry.”

Felicia stopped breathing for a moment. “What?! Why?!”

“Because all evidence leads to him! I should know. I’ve been trying to prove him innocent since I recognized the canister.”

Felicia shook her head, looking horrified. “They can’t! Harry isn’t in this. He wasn’t involved in any of it. I’ve been doing everything I could to hide it from him.”

That was why she was in the office that day, Peter realized. Both he and Felicia had noticed that Harry was acting suspicious. Peter went to find out what he’d seen and Felicia was trying to hide it further. They were both trying to protect Harry and they’d both failed.

“We won’t make it in time,” Peter whispered. “And even if we did, they’re going to figure out his underground connections.”

“We will make it.” Felicia took two quick steps forward, her body already tensing with the need to move. “Harry has a private meeting with his father this evening. He should already be on his way there. We just have to get there first and make sure Norman takes the fall for everything else. He was the one that set up those deals in the first place.”

Peter met Felicia’s eyes and they came to a silent agreement. They had to protect Harry, and they’d do what was necessary to guarantee that.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Wade waved his hands in front of him, his gun flailing around in a way that made Peter uncomfortable. “We’re just gonna start trusting her? Because you both know her boss?”

“No, because she’s in love with Harry,” Peter said. Felicia made no comment, but one wasn’t needed. Anyone could see it on her face.

“Oh for the love of…” Wade stashed his gun away before digging in his pouch and throwing Felicia an ear bud. “Put that on and let’s hustle.”

Wasting no time they all took off through the buildings, heading for Norman Osborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to use The Phrase, but I was talked into it. lol Cheesy, but oh so very Spider-man.
> 
> Felicia's history is canon. She was raped in college and then trained in various things to get a deadly skillset and then set out to murder her rapist. Before he could get to him, he died in a drunk driving accident. In canon she just decided to use her new abilities to become a thief like her father. She hated all men for a long time.
> 
> This line:  
>  _At the end of her crusade, she had been branded as someone trying to ruin an alpha’s name over a “single night’s mistake.” The alpha spent a laughably small amount of time in jail, and only served a year of probation. Later, his record had been expunged._  
>  Is actually something that happened a couple of years back in America. Look at me still salting over it. heh
> 
> Are you ready for next chapter? Muahahahahaha.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so hard to write... Just... all the things that happen and the different writing needs. You'll see.

“Miss Hardy.”

“Walter.” Felicia smiled as she walked up to the doorman. “Good to see you.”

The older man gave her a friendly smile. “Always a pleasure to see you as well. Are you not with Harry this evening?”

“He forgot something at the office. Is he not here yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure he’ll be along shortly. Would you like to go on up?”

“Yes, please. I’ll drop everything off with Norman.”

Walter leaned in conspiratorially as he opened the door. “Careful. He’s in a mood tonight.”

Felicia smiled. “Thanks for the warning.”

On their way to Norman’s penthouse, Felicia had managed to slip on a pant suit over the majority of her costume. She had also run mousse coloring through her hair to make her look platinum blonde instead of snowy white. When Peter had commented on it, she’d scoffed at him.

“A woman takes far more time than a simple hair coloring to get ready for the day,” she’d replied.

It still seemed like a lot of effort to Peter when one could simply shove the hair under a mask or something, but to each their own.

Felicia made her way inside and was lost from sight, but not from signal. She tapped her foot restlessly after entering the elevator and Peter could hear it through the earpiece. The elevator would stop before the last three levels of the building — it had private elevators for the top three floors as well as additional an security detail. Once there, Felicia had to take out the guards and disable the alarms for Peter and Wade to make it inside.

“You sure you can handle it all by yourself?” Wade asked again. It looked like he was itching for some action. Peter could practically hear Felicia roll her eyes in response.

“Don’t take me for an amateur.” Clothing rustled on the other end of the comm.

“Are you getting undressed?” Peter asked. She just got changed into normal clothes!

“I can’t exactly be seen as myself while kicking ass.” She sounded amused. “We wear costumes for a reason.”

The elevator door dinged and the sound was followed by shouts, grunts, loud orders, sickening thuds, and electric crackles. It took about two minutes for all to go quiet, with only the muted sound typing on a keyboard to be heard[.](https://youtu.be/nJn1LjLaNVQ)

“Alright, boys, I’m gonna get changed. I’ll meet you up top.”

“I won’t lie, I’m a little turned on right now,” Wade said, and Felicia laughed in return. Peter frowned, but it wasn’t like he could say much given his previous interactions with Black Cat.

Wade hopped onto Peter’s back and they swung up to the top of the building. There was an emergency escape on the rooftop complete with an empty helipad. They broke in through the access door and made their way inside. Wade started a sweep of the building to find and incapacitate Norman’s personal bodyguards. Peter crawled along the ceiling and made his way towards the sound of Felicia’s heels.

“Mr. Osborn?” Felicia called as she made her way into the quiet penthouse.

Peter peeked around the corner into the living room and froze in shock. Felicia entered at about that moment. She let out a string of expletives and ran over to the woman bound and gagged in the corner. It was Mariah Crawford.

“Mariah! What happened?” Felicia dug out one of her gloves so she could start cutting through the bindings with its claws. Mariah’s eyes tried and failed to focus. She looked beaten and drugged.

Peter wasn’t sure what to do. They had all gathered to protect Harry and get the drop on Norman. The last thing they had expected to find was Mariah delivered like a stringed ham to the man who had put a hit on her. How had it happened in the first place?

“Ah! Felicia! What a pleasant surprise.”

They all looked over to see Norman leisurely walking into the room, fixing the cuffs on his well pressed shirt. He had a relaxed smile on his face, seemingly unconcerned about the woman tied up in the corner, or being caught in the act. Felicia shot to her feet and stood in front of Mariah.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

Norman smiled, and there was an edge to it. Something in his eyes was a little too bright, his fingers twitched erratically, his shoulders were tense with excitement. “You seem to take me for an idiot. Ha! You wouldn’t be the only one.”

“You tied up your nur—”

“My would be murderer!” Norman suddenly shouted, spittle flying from the edges of his mouth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his calm smile returning as he looked back at Felicia. “Do you honestly think I would just sit here in my room and do nothing like a sniveling little omega?”

“Harry will be here any moment—”

“Oh! That was the intention. You see, I love my son. It’s been tough teaching him the hard lessons of life. He doesn’t understand the extent someone will go to in order to exact revenge. He needed to see with his own eyes what happens when a careful background check is not included with one’s employees.”

“She is your _nurse_ ,” Felicia said, trying to talk Norman down. Of course, both Peter and Norman knew better.

Norman started laughing before his mood shifted abruptly into angry shouting. “I know everything that happens in my own company!”

Felicia’s center of gravity dropped as she waited for Norman to start rampaging. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and took another calming breath. “You think I don’t have my own private security cameras set up? Silly little girl. I know you’ve been sneaking the bitch in for years — the treatments to alter the DNA of your sweat glands in order to smell like a beta, doing your little experiments on omega biology, creating your chemical weapon.”

Norman waved a hand in the air as if it was all trivial. “Your biggest offence was trying to gain control of my son. As if I’d let a worthless omega whore like you marry him. I was hoping that Harry would be smart enough to discover your farce and be rid of you. Alas, my son has a long way to go.”

Peter’s head was spinning. He’d been right all along. Mariah and Black Cat had been working together from the beginning. More than that, Mariah had found a way to mask omega scent. That was revolutionary. If it worked on a DNA level, it made sense that it would be difficult to accomplish, as it would have to be tailor made to each individual.

Still, simply knowing that the option existed…

Norman strolled over to a screen set into the wall and pressed a button. It blipped to life, showing a continuous parade of slides detailing all the times Felicia and Mariah had broken into Oscorp and worked with unauthorized chemicals. “I compiled this in order to put you both behind bars, but I feel that’s a little too kind. If the two of you wish to act like criminal betas, then I shall treat you as such.”

He smiled as he pulled something round and orange from his pocket. “Was the plan to cause one of my omega nurses to become a crazed killing machine? So many would be affected that one couldn’t place the blame on them. Death by terrorist attack. Unluckily for you, I do not keep omegas around me — though not for lack of trying on _your_ part.” He shot a dirty look at Mariah.

Peter’s earpiece popped as Wade spoke. “Uh, guys? There’s no bodyguards anywhere. Or cooks. Or housekeeping. Nada. That seem a little weird to you?”

Norman smiled as he twisted the orb in his hand from side to side, watching the light glint off the metal edges. “Of course, an omega under such an influence trying to kill an alpha? It would be so easy for the alpha to regrettably do what was necessary in order to save his own life. Such a tragic accident.”

“No…” Felicia whispered.

Spidey sense went off and Peter realized what Norman was holding. He had the gas, and he’d put it in his own container. Peter ripped his mask off and scrambled to get the gas mask out of his hidden belt and over his face in time.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t play a game of such life or death stakes against _me_!” Norman laughed and hit the button, throwing it at Felicia when she made a run for it.

The gas wasn’t the invisible kind Peter had experienced prior. It was mixed with a thick and cloudy smoke that consumed the room in no time, allowing Norman the chance to disappear from sight. Peter had managed to get the gas mask on in time, but Felicia was now a danger to them all.

“Felicia!” Peter shouted into the comms. “Hold your breath and get to a window!”

Maybe it could have worked. Maybe they could have prevented Felicia from being affected. They weren’t given the option to find out. Spidey sense barely gave Peter enough of a warning, not that he could dodge the impact from a grenade.

They all went flying, slamming into walls, the bullet proof picture windows cracking, the furniture exploding into shrapnel. It wasn’t the largest explosion Peter had ever seen, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when he hit the ground. He gasped for breath and heard Felicia do the same. Wade was calling Peter’s name as he ran through the penthouse to get to them.

Felicia’s breathing became harsher and a growl picked up in the back of her throat. Shit. That was a complication they most certainly didn’t need. She was capable of taking them all out, particularly if Peter and Wade had no intent to majorly injure or kill. Norman had no idea what he had done to himself.

Or maybe he did, if his insane laughter was anything to go by. It echoed through the penthouse, and Peter was still too disoriented to figure out where it was coming from. Wade slid to a stop beside Peter and helped him from the rubble.

“What the fuck did we just walk in on?” Wade asked. It was a good question.

Felicia let out a rage filled scream into the earpiece. They couldn’t see her through the smoke and dust. Peter stuck his hand to the wall to guarantee he kept his balance. “Go find Felicia. Tie her up. I’ll go after Norman. I’ll be able to tell if he throws another grenade.”

“I don’t like this, Petey.”

“We have to stop him.”

Wade cursed, but he didn’t argue further, just made his way into the smoke to find Felicia. Peter pushed off the wall and headed further into the ruined home, trying to figure out where Norman had gone.

The eerie laughing bounced off the walls around Peter as he moved further into the smoke. He could hear the grunts and shouts of Wade and Felicia fighting over the comm. Everything was a total mess. Peter knew his luck always brought about the worst scenarios, but Norman attacking them like he had was far from something that they could have planned for.

“They thought they could contain me!” Norman’s voice sounded like it was moving all around Peter. He spun in place, trying to track it. “They thought they could scare me into a hole! Do they have any idea who I am?!”

Peter had recently learned who Norman really was, and the current situation only made things worse. It was obvious that he was a crazed megalomaniac. Perhaps Norman had initially faked his illness, but he was certainly sick in the head now. Who knew how many more people could get hurt if Peter didn’t stop him.

There was an odd humming noise that grew closer, and then Peter’s spidey sense went off. He jumped and managed to flip over two more grenades as they were launched at him, both in the same orange orbs the gas had been in. Peter rolled for cover as Norman’s laughter drifted further away.

That time, when the grenades blew the windows couldn’t take the force, what with the explosion being a direct hit on the glass. They cracked and pieces of them flew out into the coming twilight. Wind started howling through the open sections of glass, as it was always strong when up so high. On the upside, it helped clear away some of the smoke.

Peter got to his feet, body aching and ears ringing, and backed up into the spot that was finally gaining visibility. At least the gas mask protected his eyes from the forceful gusts of wind. His hair whipped around him frantically as he searched for where the next attack would come from.

“My son is just _surrounded_ by greedy omegas looking to ride his dick into an easy life. You think dressing in a costume somehow makes that better?”

Peter clenched his fists and forced himself to stay calm. So Norman had figured out that it was Peter in the room. Well, maybe that could be used to his advantage. Norman had always underestimated Peter. Now was the time to show him what an omega could really do.

Something burst from the smoke, and it was so unexpected that Peter barely threw himself to the floor in time. The glider flew over Peter’s head and circled around. On top of it was a green goblin laughing with Norman’s voice. It was official. The man was insane.

“When your lackeys can’t get the job done, do it yourself!” Norman cried and then flew at Peter again. Long spikes grew from the front of the glider. Norman intended to skewer Peter.

Using his super strength, Peter pushed himself off the floor and flipped around to stick to the ceiling. Norman whooshed past underneath. Peter curled backwards and shot webbing at the glider, hoping to jam its engines. Norman dodged it and threw another of the pumpkin looking grenades in return. Peter webbed it up and slung it at one of the holes in the window. The walls trembled when it exploded just outside the penthouse.

This allowed Norman enough time to regroup and fly at Peter again. Peter dropped from the ceiling, but Norman was prepared, grabbing Peter’s ankle as he flew by. Peter panicked and tried to get enough force going to yank out of Norman’s grip, but before he could he was flown into a wall.

Peter tumbled through the crumbling drywall with a shout of pain. Norman circled around the now decimated dividing wall. Peter forced his aching body back to his feet. After two grenades and being thrown through a wall, his suit wasn’t holding up so great. He could feel blood trickling down his skin, but he couldn’t allow himself the time to think about his injuries.

The glider came at him again, but this time Peter didn’t avoid it. Bracing himself, he shoved his arms out in front of him and caught it head on, hands placed between the spikes. The sharp points were barely an inch away from him, but they didn’t go any further. Peter’s feet slipped along the floor, but the glider didn’t get any closer. The engine whined and the metal creaked under Peter’s grip.

“Such strength is wasted on a nobody like you!” Norman screeched.

Something whirred and Peter’s spidey sense screamed. He shoved the glider up with all the force he could muster just as two shaped knives were launched from it. The glider took off into the ceiling when Peter’s grip loosened and it slid along the plaster and sky lights until the inertia died, allowing it to crash to the ground, unmanned. Norman had fallen onto his back when the glider took off without him, but he hadn’t stayed down.

More of the knives launched from attachments on Norman’s suit. Peter dodged, getting grazed on the arm by only one of them. Norman took advantage of Peter’s focused movements to get in close and land a solid punch to the solar plexus. Peter’s breath wheezed out of him as he tried to block Norman’s machinery enhanced punches and kicks.

Peter’s feet were swept out from under him and he went down hard. Norman shot another knife straight at Peter’s face. Fortunately the gas mask caught it, only allowing the tip of the knife to imbed into his skin and cause his eyes to water. Unfortunately, that meant the gas mask had a leak and the smoke was not fully cleared from the penthouse, which meant…

Norman brought his boot down to shove the knife further in but Peter rolled out of the way. He took hold of the knife and yanked it out of the mask before tossing it into the rubble. It helped clear his vision a little bit, considering the crack in the mask and his own blurry eyes were trouble enough. Peter clambered back to his feet.

“Hurt little omega,” Norman mocked. “Are you going to beg me for your life?”

As Norman advanced, Peter backed away, blinking rapidly to clear his line of sight and take a moment to form a plan of attack. His breathing was labored and that terrified him. His heart rate was already starting to pick up. If he lost focus, Norman could easily outsmart him.

“Or are you going to become a mindless savage? That suits you.” Norman’s teeth glinted behind his mask as he grinned wide. “Show me how angry you are! Useless, worthless, helpless omega!”

Peter could feel his pulse behind his eyes. His fingers curled tightly into fists. Norman was dangerous. Norman would hurt Peter and everyone he cared about. Norman had to be stopped. Peter would show the _alpha_ just how strong omegas really were.

Shouting, Peter charged. His eyes were hyper focusing on Norman’s limbs even though a voice in the back of his head shouted at him not to. They fought hard, fists and feet flying. Norman managed multiple hits, but they didn’t stop Peter for long. His body grew hot and his skin was steadily becoming numb.

He came back to himself when he was lifted into the air and slammed against the wall, held in place by a hand to his chest. His head cracked the plaster and the world blacked out for a few seconds. Then a fist slammed into his mask, shattering the visor. Peter’s ears rang and and his head throbbed. His instincts screamed at him to fight back.

Peter dropped his hips and threw his weight into his shoulder, flipping Norman so it was _him_ slammed up against the wall. Peter threw a punch, but it was off, and only sent the mask covering Norman’s face flying, taking a chunk of skin from Norman’s jaw with it. Peter roared and ripped off his own mask so he could see.

Norman was dazed, a wound by his temple bleeding heavily, but he grinned up at Peter with bloody teeth. “Go ahead. Do it. Show me how much of a murderer you are.”

Peter pulled back his fist, his body trembling with the need to punch straight through the alpha’s skull. But Norman’s words managed to get through the ringing in Peter’s ears. A memory of Wade wrapping his hand around Peter’s fist sprang to mind.

_“You’ll regret killing him later. Don’t do that to yourself.”_

Peter panted for breath, his body screaming at him to protect himself and to eradicate all alphas. The image of blood covered hands and Wade’s worried face flashed in Peter’s mind in a visceral memory. Peter’s vision blurred and hyper focused in waves as he stayed frozen in place.

“Do it!” Norman yelled.

Peter released a long and guttural shout as he let his arm fly forward with force. It landed just beside Norman’s head, sending powdered drywall floating through the air while bits of the brickwork underneath crumbled to the floor. Peter curled forward, trying to breathe normally, trying to get his body back under control.

He didn’t want to be a villain. He didn’t want to kill. He had a _responsibility_ to others and to himself. For the first time in a long time, he remembered smiling down at the spider symbol painstakingly sewn into his new costume. He remembered what it had felt like when he wanted so badly to be a hero.

Every fiber of Peter’s being was screaming at him to rip the alpha to shreds. Peter trembled under the force of it. He needed to get away. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d lose control. But where could he go? Was there anywhere close enough that he could lock himself away until it passed?

“What’s the matter?” Norman laughed. “Can’t do it? If you kill me, Harry will be rid of you. If you don’t, you’ll prove how helpless you really are.”

Peter’s vision wavered under the strength of his anger. His body tensed up, a snarl pulling at his lips. He was _not_ weak. He was stronger than anyone. He was—

Something was coming up behind him and his spidey sense was desperately trying to blare a warning louder than the rage screaming along the inside of Peter’s skull. He jumped into the air and flipped backwards in order to miss whatever it was on pure instinct. The sight of the glider came into view, remote operating as it flew right at where Peter had been.

Peter landed just as the glider imbedded its spikes into the wall. Norman looked down at the glider that was now sunk into his chest in surprise. He opened his mouth and blood trickled down his chin. Peter stayed crouched on the floor in shock, unable to fully process what had just happened.

Norman tried to say something, tried to smile, tried to laugh, but the spikes were in his chest and his lungs didn’t work and his ribs wouldn’t expand. He slumped forward onto the glider, his eyes going distant, his body falling slack. A scream crawled up Peter’s throat and tumbled from his lips.

No! No, Norman couldn’t die! Peter wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t! He had stopped himself. He was going to walk away. Why? Why did that happen?!

Peter tried to stand, but the world was spinning, and he pitched forward on his hands and knees. His stomach flipped and he gagged. He wanted to rip the glider from the wall and toss it away, press his hands on Norman’s wounds. It wouldn’t do anything, but at least he’d be _trying_.

Norman’s earlier words echoed in his mind. Harry wouldn’t forgive Peter for killing his father. Harry would be rid of Peter. Everything Peter had done to try and protect Harry would be ruined. Peter didn’t want that! He hadn’t meant to kill Norman! He’d _stopped_ himself!

Peter tried to crawl to Norman but his body wouldn’t obey. Every time he tried to move, his muscles jerked around in painful ways. His vision pulsed and his ears rang. His consciousness kept hovering on the edge of rational and out of control. He wanted to curl up and cry. He wanted to rip the very foundation of the penthouse apart with his bare hands. He wanted to start running and not stop until his body collapsed from exhaustion. He wanted to do it all at once and his head felt ready to explode from it all.

“Peter!”

Someone was calling his name. It sounded muffled and far away. That probably wasn’t a good sign. He lifted his head, his eyes skipping everywhere of their own volition. He just wanted to see who was in front of him. Someone was there. Why couldn’t he focus?

“Peter look at me!”

A hand on his face, forcing him to stare into dark blue eyes. Peter trembled and he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a rasping wordless shout, choked off with a growl. The hand tightened it’s grip.

“Focus on me!”

That was when Peter recognized Harry’s face. Harry was there, he’d seen, he _knew_. No! Peter didn’t want this. He hadn’t meant to kill Norman!

Something sharp stabbed into his hip. It burned and his body jerked at the contact, a snarl pulled back his lips. Harry gripped Peter’s chin hard, forcing Peter to keep eye contact and not move.

“Keep looking at me,” Harry insisted. “I’m injecting you with something that will help, but it’s going to leave your emotions erratic.”

Peter gasped for breath and forced himself to stay still. He just had to stay immobile long enough for whatever Harry was injecting to work. Peter wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually the needle was removed from his side and his body began to shake in great violent tremors. A tightness grew in his chest and his eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Peter choked out. “I’m sorry!”

“Shhh.” Harry pulled Peter into his arms. “It’s not your fault. I know that.”

Peter gripped Harry’s shirt and clenched only the fabric in his fists so that he wouldn’t hurt Harry. His muscles were going haywire and his emotions were turbulent. A sob ripped out of Peter and Harry ran soothing hands over Peter’s hair, neck, and back.

“What the hell happened here?”

Peter jerked like he’d been electrocuted. That voice… it was Tony. They weren’t prepared for the Avengers yet! Peter looked up to see a group of them walking in with Tony. Peter hadn’t heard them approaching. In fact, he was still barely able to discern the sound of their footsteps even while watching them. Peter couldn’t tell if that was from the gas, what he’d been injected with, or the injuries he’d accumulated. Perhaps all three.

Harry gently uncurled Peter’s fingers from his shirt and stood up. Tony locked eyes on his target and stepped forward. “Harry Osborn, you’re under arrest for suspected terrorist activity, multiple cases of attempted murder, and multiple connections to crime syndicate activity.”

“No…” Felicia moaned.

Peter’s eyes cut over and saw her across the room, tied up, bruised and beaten, and crying. Beside her lay an unconscious Mariah. Wade was making his way across the room to Peter.

“Wait…” Peter rasped. He needed to get control of himself. Needed to clear it all up.

Harry squared his shoulders and calmly replied. “I did it.”

Felicia and Peter stared at Harry in stunned silence. Peter snapped out of it first. “No! Harry, no!”

Harry dropped back to crouch in front of Peter. He wore a sad smile. “I knew what was happening,” he whispered. “I knew it, and I did nothing to stop it. I knew why, and I did nothing to change things. I could have removed myself from my father’s underground dealings, could have gone to the police, but I went along with it. I’m guilty, Peter.”

Tears streaked down Peter’s cheeks uncontrollably. He shook his head, over and over, his throat tight with words he could barely force out. “No! Harry, no! Please don’t do this!”

Peter tried to lurch forward, but Wade was suddenly there. He pulled Peter into him, wrapping large arms around his shaking frame. Peter pushed at Wade’s arms, but he barely had any strength. His body couldn’t handle all that had happened to it in such a short period of time.

“It’s time I did something worthwhile,” Harry said and stood back up.

“Nonono!” Peter sobbed and turned to look at Tony. “Please! It’s not him!”

Tony’s helmet folded away and his eyes looked concerned as they flicked between the panicked Peter and the calm Harry. Tony glanced over at the body of Norman Osborn, looking even more befuddled as to what all had happened. “Listen, Osborn, if you’re trying to protect someone…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “I will admit to everything. All products were produced by and in my company. I will give all the details to the criminal activity my father and I were involved in.”

“Stop!” Peter begged.

On the other side of the room, Felicia stared at Harry in mute horror. She was crying as well, but she seemed to be in shock as she wasn’t moving or making a sound. She just looked… broken.

“Tony, please!” Peter tried a different avenue. “They’ll tear him apart in jail!”

The gas affected omegas and caused them to attack alphas. That would effectively put Harry on everyone’s shit list. Nobody would be able to protect Harry from angry guards and inmates who held a grudge or hated the use of such methods because it left them in fear.

Tony seemed to come to that conclusion as well. He sighed. “We’ll take you into custody ourselves and work with the authorities. You’ll likely be isolated the majority of the time.”

Harry gave a single nod. “I appreciate the concern.”

Peter cried out again, wordless and agonized. He didn’t know what else to say and his mind was too muddled to think of anything coherent. Wade’s arms tightened, desperately trying to lend comfort and support in a situation where none could be had.

Harry was a _good_ person. He was going to take the blame for others because he felt the need to help them keep their lives. Because he understood _why_ they had gone to such drastic lengths. Peter had been suspicious of Harry for so long, and there he was, sacrificing himself. The guilt of it ate away at Peter like a physical thing, tearing up his insides.

Tony stepped forward and held out his hands, cuffs ready. Harry obediently turned around and placed his arms behind his back. He smiled down at Peter like everything would be okay and it _wouldn’t_ be. Peter tried to beg Harry to stop once more, but it came out an incoherent and garbled mess.

Steve stepped forward, looking conflicted and compassionate. “We’ll need to bring the others in for treatment. Help them up.”

A few went to aid Felicia and Mariah, but Wade refused to let anyone get close to Peter. Wade scooped Peter up into his arms and held him close. Peter buried his face into Wade’s neck, desperately hoping the smell of alpha would help. His body still shook uncontrollably, he still felt sick and weak, he still sobbed, but at least he felt safe in Wade’s arms.

As Wade walked them out of the destroyed penthouse, Peter watched over Wade’s shoulder as Felicia and Harry were given a moment, their foreheads pressed together. Felicia looked like her world was crumbling around her. Maybe it was. Peter’s sure was.

“Wade…” Peter croaked.

“It’s okay, Baby Boy,” Wade whispered. “I’ve got you. I promise. I won’t leave your side.”

Peter watched until he could no longer see his best friend. Then he pressed his face against Wade’s shoulder and let the pain of it wash over him. His body ached, but his chest hurt far worse. How had everything gone so wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who dun it?  
> Everyone dun it!  
> How's that for a twist?
> 
> Did you cry?! I did while writing this. I hope others did too so I don't feel left out. T.T
> 
> Anywho~ I can hear the questions piling up already. Fear not. Most of them will be answered next chapter. A lot of loose ends will be wrapped up as well. That's right, next chapter is last chapter. Fastest fic ever! (That's not true, I did The Sum Of Our Parts in two weeks.) In fact, I think I accomplished NaNo with this fic prior to NaNo even starting. Fun times.
> 
> The next chapter will come out tomorrow if it's been beta'd or not. lol I won't leave you in suspense too long. I'm just as impatient as you are! XD


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, guys!

Harry’s case sped through the system in under a month. He didn’t fight it in court, despite Harry’s lawyers pushing him to do so. Instead, Harry had taken a plea bargain from the DA in return for offering all the information he had on every crime boss Oscorp had worked with. The Avengers were brought into the case in order to see that Harry be placed in a different facility rather than the local prison for his own protection.

Multiple times, Peter had wanted to storm in and set the record straight once and for all. Had he been able to get out of bed, maybe he would have. Felicia, however, beat Peter to it, not that it did anything. Harry had managed to completely discredit her testimony. She ended up furious with him over it and declined further visits.

In the meantime, Peter spent quite a few days recovering, and longer still getting back to normal. His body hadn’t handled well getting two hits of the gas so close together along with the massive shot of oxytocin Harry had used to counteract it. Or perhaps Norman had altered the gas. It was hard to determine, especially with a healing concussion.

Mariah worked with Tony to help create a formula to counteract the gas in case it was needed in the future. If Norman had produced more of it, they’d been unable to find where he stashed it. Not to mention, the webbed up canister that Peter had left on the rooftop before going after Norman had vanished by the time he and Felicia remembered it. It was unknown if someone picked it up for nefarious purposes, or if it had simply ended up in a dump somewhere after being tossed by maintenance personnel.

Norman’s goblin tech had been dismantled and disposed of. His death was announced as part of his illness, excluding any further details. Only a handful of people knew what had really happened, but that didn’t stop people from talking about it.

The news was all over Harry’s arrest and Norman’s death. It effectively shifted the public attention off of the serial killer case. Everyone was in debate as to what would happen with Oscorp since there was no known successor. Until a decision was made, the Board was in control.

Peter both did and didn’t want to know about everything that was being said in regards to Oscorp and its former owners. He was an emotional wreck and spent most of his time with Aunt May or Wade. They were both very solid pillars of support. To his credit, Tony did his best to keep Peter appraised of what they were doing to aid Harry and never once mentioned the fact that Peter had hid his private investigation from the rest of the team.

Harry declined to speak with Peter directly even after he was healthy enough to do so. The lawyers said it was necessary for Peter to stay far away from the case, but Peter was convinced that Harry blamed Peter for Norman’s death. Felicia had promised that wasn’t the reason.

Felicia let Peter know that Harry had entered Norman’s penthouse once Deadpool had her pinned down. Harry had given Felicia the shot, and then turned just in time to see Norman goad Peter, only to end up killing himself in the end. Once Felicia fell limp, Deadpool had tied her up and then ran to aid Peter.

Wade didn’t much care for Harry’s fate, but he didn’t say such things out loud. He was only concerned about Peter’s well being, and in that respect, spouted off whatever nonsense words he thought Peter wanted to hear. It was both frustrating and comforting. Wade wasn’t perfect, but at least he was _trying_ to be supportive.

The day Harry was officially placed in his secured facility, Peter spent most of the day in bed. He had no desire to face the world. He had no desire to do anything. He had put off a lot of issues that needed his attention, but he didn’t know if he wanted to face them just yet.

Primarily, what kind of person did he want to be? A civilian, a villain, a hero? Or something else? Peter stared at the sketch he’d doodled of his long dead symbol that was taped to the wall beside his bed. It had yet to form sentience in order to give him advice.

Peter’s stomach growled again. He couldn’t accurately say when the last time was that he’d eaten anything. Sighing, Peter rolled himself out of bed and trudged downstairs. Aunt May was so thrilled to see him moving around that she insisted on making him something. Likely far more than Peter felt ready to consume, but he didn’t argue with her.

As Peter picked at his food, Aunt May set a small envelope beside him. “This was in the mail for you, by the way.”

He frowned at it. It was small and there was no return address. He ripped it open and dumped out the contents. It was a single blank business card with numbers on it. Significantly, numbers written in Harry’s handwriting. It finally clicked for Peter that they were a safe combination.

Peter knew where Harry’s safe was in his apartment. They’d both had a laugh at how it was hidden behind a gilded picture frame on hinges, like it was some kind of set dressing pulled straight out of a cheesy movie. Most of Harry’s important documents were stored in the office safe. Peter had no idea what was in the small and tucked away safe in Harry’s room.

It seemed to be an invitation to find out. But why? Why had Harry sent it after he had made sure he was locked away where Peter couldn’t question him on it? Of course, it was also sent after the investigation was wrapped up and there would no longer be police swarming Harry’s apartment. Peter could break in and take what was being offered.

Was it money? Did Harry feel guilty? There was no way Peter could take such a thing. Not from Harry, not after what happened. Peter ran his thumb across the edge of the card. His curiosity was driving him mad. Harry was likely banking on that.

Well, if it _was_ money, Peter would just ignore it. The least he could do was take a peek and see what was in there. So, that night Peter broke into Harry’s dark and quiet apartment and went over to the hidden safe. He punched in the numbers and it easily beeped and unlocked for him. Peter took a moment to see if anything bad was going to happen, like some kind of extra security measure, before slowly opening the door.

There were various items shoved into the back of the safe, but in the front sat a manila envelope with his name scrawled on it. Peter carefully removed it and took a peek inside. There was a neat stack of paperwork and a flash drive with a sticky note on it that said, “Watch me!”

Peter decided that the best place to do that was not in Harry’s apartment. Tucking the envelope under his arm, Peter made his way back home.

 

~*~

 

Deadpool crawled in through the window of Peter’s room. He wasn’t nearly so agile in regards to the cluttered mess and ended up knocking over a variety of things. When he finally managed to stand up straight, he looked around him in confusion. Peter sat curled up in the corner of his bed, just calmly watching Wade struggle.

“Uhhh,” Wade looked around some more, searching for signs of a battle. “You said it was an emergency.”

“It is.” Peter closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall. He looked exhausted.

“Is this your room? In like, your house?” After all the time they’d spent together, Peter had never invited Wade over. The merc sounded slightly alarmed and a lot confused.

“It is,” Peter repeated.

“Petey… What’s going on?”

Peter opened his eyes and turned his head to look at his open laptop. There was flash drive in it and a video ready to play. Around the computer was a mess of paperwork and an open manila envelope.

“Hit play.”

Wade flicked his eyes between Peter and the laptop before slowly walking over to the latter. He nervously adjusted his gun holsters, probably feeling overdressed for such a quiet occasion. For once not babbling at Peter, Wade just hit the button and watched the video spring to life.

Harry’s face appeared on the screen. He looked as worn out as he normally did even as he gave the camera a subdued smile. “Hey, Pete. If you’re watching this, it means something happened… to me _and_ my dad.” Harry rubbed at his eyes.

Peter watched the video now for the third time, still waiting on something to be different, but it wasn’t. It was all laid out before him, undeniable and unchangeable.

“Look, I know you hate me worrying over you, but that’s what best friends do, ya know?” Harry smiled, dropping his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking back at the camera. “I needed to know that no matter what happened, you were taken care of.”

Harry held up his hands. “I know what you’re going to say, and yes, I _know_ you can take care of yourself. But… There are just some ways that life is always gonna be shitty. I should have done more to fix that, and I can think of a lot of excuses, but that’s all they are — excuses. I could have done more, and I didn’t. So instead, I’m leaving it to you.”

The same manila envelope with Peter’s name on it was held up to the screen and then set back down. “I’m sure you’ve looked through this and already figured it out… You don’t remember much from Vegas not because you were drunk, but because I slipped you something. The marriage documents, the legal paperwork for the company, and the photographic proof is all in there. This flash drive even has a video of the ceremony.”

Unbuttoning the collar of his shirt, Harry peeled a thin skin toned patch aside to bare his neck. Faint scars in the shape of Peter’s teeth still sat on his skin. “I had this confirmed with your dental records and notarized. That’ll be important since your mark healed cleanly.”

Harry busied himself with hiding the mark again and rebuttoning his shirt. He looked uncomfortable. “I know what I did was wrong, and it was a violation to your consent. I know I’m being a coward, leaving the company to you when it’s guaranteed to be a mess. I know I should have done things myself instead of leaving it all for you to handle.”

He ran a hand through his hair and finally looked back up at the camera. “Of the two of us, you’ve always been the hero. I know all your dreams fell through in the past, but this is your chance. I’ve left everything I can with Felicia to help you through the transition into the company. _Do_ something with it, Peter. I know you can make a difference in the world. That’s what you were always meant to do.”

Likely, Harry had no idea how much that hurt Peter to hear. Even the third time through, Peter’s chest clenched and he curled up a little tighter into himself. Was he really meant to change the world? Could he really make any difference at all? It was a lot to put on his shoulders.

It looked like Harry had more to say, but was struggling to get it out. He swallowed hard and gave the camera a sad smile. “I’m sorry. For everything… Just… I love you, Pete. I mean that. You’ve always been family to me, and now it’s official.”

“Sir!” Felicia’s quiet but insistent voice spoke in the background. Harry turned around to her and quickly turned back, his face an array of emotions that meant his father was coming. Peter knew that look well. Harry closed the laptop and killed the recording. There was nothing added to the video after that.

Wade turned to look at Peter and it was obvious that he was gaping under the mask. “Does this mean that you’re _Peter Osborn_?”

“Apparently…”

“Holy chimichangas…” Wade paced the small space in order to burn off his restless energy. He suddenly whirled around, looking angry. “Did he have sex with you while you were _drugged_?”

Peter shook his head. “No. I trust Harry enough to know that he didn’t. He bond marked me, though. There are pictures of it.”

The pictures were of them laughing and goofing off, taking selfies of their bites while piled up in bed together. It made it look as if the marriage had been consummated. It was a well planned picture by Harry. However, Peter was 100% certain that it was all staged.

Wade took a deep breath and let his shoulders drop. “Alright… If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Peter dropped his head back against his wall, staring off into space.

“What are you going to do?”

There was a long pause as Peter considered that. He had been asking himself that question for hours. Part of him already knew the answer. “What do _you_ think I should do?”

Wade propped his hands on his hips and sighed. “I know you’ve been agonizing over doing more mercenary work. It’s like you’ve been wandering around limbo for a month…”

It was true. Peter had been stuck in his own head and hiding from the world. It was a comfortable thing to fall back into. He’d been doing it since he was sixteen.

“I think this is a good opportunity,” Wade said. “You do can everything you’ve always wanted with this. You’re better at being a hero.”

Peter let out a small huff of a laugh. “I don’t deserve that title.”

“Yeah, you do. Being a hero is in your blood.”

A wave of emotions followed that statement. Peter was silent for a long time, eyes distant, his mind spinning in circles. When he came back to himself, he held out a hand to Wade. “I need you.”

Wasting no time, Wade stripped himself of his weapons and outfit. He crawled onto the bed, nuzzling up in the way Peter liked best. Peter took a deep breath and felt his chest relax for the first time in hours. He enjoyed being surrounded by the familiar scent of Wade.

Peter ran his fingers in random patterns along Wade’s bald head as it rested on his chest. Wade breathed in Peter’s scent as well, wrapping his arms tight around Peter’s torso until the muscles started to release their tension. For a time, Peter closed his eyes and drifted, not allowing himself to think about anything at all.

“There will probably still be problems with the Board if you try to take over.” Wade broke the silence, unable to stay quiet for very long.

“Not probably — guaranteed. The scandal of a secret marriage alone will be a nightmare to handle. The fact that I’m an omega will not go over well _at all_.”

“Aren’t there only, like, two other omega millionaires that inherited their fortune from their families?”

“Three, in America. I’d be the first billionaire.”

“That seems pretty important,” Wade pushed.

“Yeah…”

“Didn’t you tell Felicia that you would badger Tony into doing something with his wealth?”

Peter sighed. “Yeah…”

“You could do it on your own now.”

There was a long pause as Peter stared at the wall and the spider symbol taped to it. “You sound like you’re trying to convince me to take it.”

“This is what you wanted. Sometimes it’s okay to have a little help getting there. That’s what you want to do for other omegas, isn’t it? Help them?

“Since when are _you_ the logical one?” Peter groused.

Wade sat up and gave Peter a tiny grin. “Since you started running away from your dream.”

“I’m not running away.”

“Liar.” Wade dropped a kiss on Peter’s forehead to soften the accusation.

“I’m just trying to make the best decision,” Peter argued.

“Then you already know what the best decision is.”

Peter studied Wade’s eyes, noting how they looked resigned to Peter’s choice. “Then I’m going to need a damn good bodyguard.”

Wade blinked. For once, he seemed to go completely still and silent, though it only lasted for a few seconds. He pushed further away, sitting back on his heels. “Being seen around me will be bad for your reputation.”

“Then we’ll need to get you a daytime outfit.”

“You can protect yourself. You don’t need me.”

“How do you know?” Peter crossed his arms and frowned. Why was Wade being so stubborn about it? “Oscorp is still tied to a lot of criminal organizations, and I’ll have the entire Board gunning for me.”

“Good thing you have that spidey sense of yours.”

“Why don’t you want to stay partners?”

“Pete…” Wade rubbed the back of his neck and looked over at the spider symbol taped to the wall. “You’re gonna outgrow me. Hell, you already have. I’m not the hero type and you are. You care about people and I only care about me. You’re a cat person and I’m a dog person.”

“Wade—”

“You don’t need me around anymore.”

Peter reached out and gripped Wade’s hand. “I do. You’re the only alpha I trust.”

“See, that really shouldn’t be the case—”

“Wade! I’m asking you to stay with me.”

Wade’s shoulders sagged and his head dropped to look at their hands. “And I’m telling you that eventually we’re gonna be too different and you won’t want that anymore.”

Peter sighed. Why did the man have to be so difficult? It wasn’t like Peter hadn’t considered that. Things might not work out how Peter wanted. There was a potential for a lot of change and a lot of divergence in morals or viewpoints. But they weren’t unique to that. Every relationship in the world must to contend with their partners changing over time.

Maybe it wouldn’t work out, but that didn’t mean Peter was ready to put a stop to things immediately. He wanted to keep Wade by his side, and he was prepared to put in the effort needed for that. Besides, for the right here and the right now, Peter couldn’t stand to lose Wade.

And that was something that Peter finally felt ready to admit to himself.

Shuffling around on the bed, Peter pushed up to his knees and crawled over to straddle Wade’s lap, wrapping his arms around those broad shoulders. “We can’t be bond marked. We heal too fast.”

Wade tensed. “I know.”

“Then it’s suiting. Nothing is permanent for us. That’s the way it is. But that means we get to choose how long we want something to last. We have a freedom that others don’t.”

Something vulnerable flashed across Wade’s face and before he could hide it or argue, Peter kissed him. It was deep and slow and full of unspoken feelings. Peter slid his lips across Wade’s cheek and pressed his mouth against Wade’s ear.

“So I’m asking you, for this moment, for right now, and into the future until we change, to be _my_ alpha.”

Wade shuddered and his arms wrapped tight around Peter. “I…”

“Do you want me?” Peter whispered.

“Yes.”

“Are you mine?”

“Yes…”

Peter pulled Wade’s head down to the crook of his neck. “Then leave a mark. Leave a mark as often as it takes and let it heal only when you're gone.”

Wade made a choked off sound of emotion and hesitated, but Peter knew well that Wade wasn’t known for his self control. Teeth sank into Peter’s skin directly over the scent gland. Both of them moaned as Peter rolled his hips against Wade’s lap.

“My alpha,” Peter purred.

“My omega,” Wade growled when he pulled away.

A second later, Peter was being thrown backwards onto the bed and his pants were flying through the air. Wade took Peter in hard snaps of his hips, his tongue rolling over the blood welling up around Peter’s fresh bond mark. Peter dug his fingers into Wade’s shoulders and sank his teeth into flesh in return knowing that it would only last a few minutes, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that they had chosen a path and they had chosen each other. Whatever changes came in the future would be addressed then. As for the present, they would face it together.

 

~*~

 

Peter fretted with his tie, an annoyed frown on his face. The damn thing just refused to sit right. Felicia walked over, her heels clacking loudly against the linoleum. Batting his hands away, she fixed it herself, and then adjusted the collar of Peter’s newly tailored suit.

“There. Now don’t touch it again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter sassed and she gave him a _look_ for the comment.

“You always called Harry ‘sir,’” Peter pointed out.

“If that’s the kind of kinky stuff you’re into, _sir_.” Felicia smirked when Peter tried and failed to not blush over the comment. “They’re ready when you are.”

A burly looking security guard stepped up next to Peter. “This image inducer thing has _so_ much potential.”

“Don’t make me regret giving that to you.”

The Wade in disguise grinned. “No promises.”

“ _Behave_ , Wade.”

“What? Like you don’t have your fancy new Spidey suit on under that tux?”

Peter stuck his nose in the air. “You never know when things are gonna go sideways. I’m just being prepared.”

“Uh-huh.”

Spider-man had been back in action for a while. The news had been talking about his particular brand of heroism gusto, excited to have something new to talk about in the hero world. Thus far, Spider-man was a solo act. Only when he needed to help with a Big Bad did he join forces with the other superheroes in town.

Peter shook his head and tried to focus on the moment. His nerves were scattering his thoughts. He took a few deep breaths of the cool lobby air before locking eyes on the entrance. With Felicia on one side and Wade on the other, Peter walked forward to stand in front of the large doors of the building.

Outside was a podium with mics already set up and a crowd of reporters surrounding it. More guards were everywhere, along with a smattering of police. Peter viewed it all with no small amount of trepidation. He hadn’t been the center of attention in a long time.

Shoes tapped along the floor and then a hand descended onto Peter’s shoulder. He looked at Tony’s grinning face.

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“Not really…” Peter eyed the hungry looking crowd outside.

Tony chuckled. “The first press conference is always the worst. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to them.”

“Thanks for helping me through this.”

“Us one percenters have to stick together.” Tony winked at Peter’s unamused frown.

Peter took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. It was time to take responsibility for the power he now had. It was time to make a difference in the world. “Let’s do this.”

Walking out into the New York City air, Peter’s senses were assaulted by the noise, smells, and aura that was his city. He had always been alone before, struggling against the setbacks of life, trying to prove to himself that it was the only way to determine how strong he really was. Now, surrounded by helping hands he finally chose to accept, Peter was about to make history.

For a moment, Peter allowed himself to imagine Harry and Uncle Ben standing beside him, quietly offering their support. Off to the side, surrounded by security, stood a proud Aunt May.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Peter spoke, his voice booming through the speakers to drown out the reporters who were already trying to shout questions. “My name is Peter Parker-Osborn, and I am the new CEO of Oscorp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic outro music!*
> 
> So, my goal was to have a somewhat bittersweet ending with things resolved but also left open enough to feel like the classic "What will happen in the next story arc from Marvel? Stay tuned!"
> 
> Peter and Wade confessing their love and living in perfect happiness is a little unrealistic to the story, which is why I settled it the way I did. As for Harry, the poor baby was too stressed out and guilt ridden to have done much other than what he did, so that's why things went down like that. As for the world as a whole, there is no quick fix, but there is an opportunity for change. I wanted Peter to learn that accepting help from others isn't a sign of weakness, but a potential for growth.
> 
>  _Possible questions:_  
>  So when the flash bomb went off, Harry knew who was in his office?  
> -Yes, he recognized them by smell (much like Peter did when Wade entered the room later), though it was his first time seeing them in costume.
> 
> Did Felicia know about the secret marriage?  
> -Yes. Felicia was in love with Harry, but her original plan was to just claw her way up the Oscorp ladder as far as possible. Later she fell for Harry but was totes okay with just being a concubine. She has her own commitment issues. Felicia was practically running the show _for_ Harry there for a while and will thus be capable of doing the same for Peter. She'll likely be appointed to a significant position in the company by Peter later on.
> 
> Did Harry know about Peter's powers?  
> -Yes. Harry knew Peter had some amount of powers by the time the Vegas trip happened. I never really nailed down the details of how much he knew or how far back prior to Vegas that he learned the information. It's not necessarily relevant to the story, so I didn't worry too much about it. This will be something Peter wonders about in the middle of the night. lol
> 
> Did Harry know Peter was a prostitute?  
> -Harry suspected, but he was willfully ignorant of it. He just didn't want to know.
> 
> Isn't Peter bad at running his company in canon?  
> -Yes, but that Peter is also bad at asking for help. This Peter has the help of many and a full plan for how to take over the company that Felicia and Harry worked up a long time ago. Also, Peter has Tony (well, Pepper, let's be real) to help him with any questions or difficulties he may run into whilst owning such a large company.
> 
> Are you going back to Cheaper By The Three Dozen now?  
> -That was the plan. Iiiii have been struggling with that one lately (obviously). I may do my best to write the next chapter I have planned and then place it on hiatus. (*opens umbrella and prepares to have rotten fruit thrown at me*) That story could potentially just continue forever. It's more or a TV series than a movie. heh I'm also kinda burnt out on ideas since I never planned an ending for it. So I may press pause and then return later with a time jump in the story. We'll see.
> 
> If you have any further questions, ask them in the comments and I shall answer! ^.^
> 
> I'm taking a few days to chill out after completing this story and then I'll be back to writing. (Usually by "chill out" I mean I watch TV, but a super indulgent kinky fic idea is driving me mad, so I might just whip that out and then move on from there. lol)

**Author's Note:**

> If you like Spideypool and other lovely fandoms, check me out here:  
> thatvixenchick.tumblr.com
> 
> So by popular request, my cats have their own tumblr now. https://vixen13scats.tumblr.com/


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